iS*        (S# 


: — •••'  ••"":" flTv  'uantiinr  •  "f^^x-j  \ ••"-:•'•KA' 


miopLO? = 

:.:,\^;..Y.M^,-\ 


-  --':^\7.t-o7^yQu^?^.-'^>r"'--_' 
..jsar.?g-5SFW  ,.:•;; 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Allen  E.  Allmond 


PROF.  MARCUS  BLAKEY  ALLMOND. 


A  NARRATIVE  POEM. 


MARCUS  BLAKEY  ALLMOND,  A.M.,  LL,D 

Magazine  Medalist,  University  of  Virginia;  Head-master,  The  Uni 
versity  School,  104  East  Jacob  Street,  Louisville,  Ky.;  Author 
of  " Estelle  and  Other  Poems"  " Agricola,"  "Outlines 
of  Latin  Syntax,"  Etc.,  Etc. 


LIMITED   EDITION. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR,  LOUISVILLE,  KY. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1892,  by 

MARCUS  B.  ALLMOND, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 

All  Rights  Reserved. 


f-5 


PREFACE. 


A  few  years  ago  I  published  "  Estelle."  The  first  edition 
soon  went  and  the  second  edition  of  one  thousand  copies 
is  about  exhausted*  But  recently,  from  California,  Iowa, 
Texas,  Kentucky  and  Virginia  came  a  call  for  it  the  same 
week.  It  is  useless,  therefore,  to  say  there  are  not  some 
to  whom  these  rhymes,  that  come  to  me  as  songs  to  birds, 
are  not  pleasurable.  Of  one  thing  I  feel  sure  —  they  can 
not  bring  harm  to  a  human  soul,  arid,  if  I  may  trust  the 
letters  I  have  received,  they  have  carried  a  bit  of  freshness 
and  comfort  to  many  smitten  by  the  hand  of  sorrow,  and 
they  have  drawn  closer  together  young  hearts  in  a  holy 
gladness  that  comes  but  once  in  a  life-time  and  is  worth  the 
loving  endeavor  of  the  grandest  hero  who  has  ever  looked 
into  the  grim  cannon's  murderous  mouth  for  his  country's 
welfare.  If  it  be  true  that  he  who  causes  two  blades  of 
grass  to  grow  where  formerly  there  was  but  one  is  a  patriot, 
can  it  be  less  true  that  he  is  a  patriot  who  heightens  the 
mutual  esteem  of  two  tender  young  hearts,  sheds  sunshine 
and  gladness  into  them  and  makes  them  even  for  one  brief 
moment  dream  that  the  world  is  indeed  beautiful  and  life 
is  indeed  worth  living?  All  too  soon  many  clouds  will 
darken  the  landscape  for  them.  While  still  they  may 
enjoy  the  golden  glories  of  the  dawn-lit  lands  "in  the 
morning  time"  (to  quote  my  little  boy)  of  life,  why  shall 

762266 


PREFACE. 

not  I  do  my  best  to  help  them  in  honest  and  honorable,  if 
simple,  wise.  This  at  least  is  my  chief  thought  and  on  it 
I  rest  my  case.  For,  pardon  me,  if  I  admit  that,  owing  to 
the  chilling,  commercial  atmosphere  in  which  we  live,  I 
feel  that  I  have  a  case  to  plead,  when  I  commit  the  rash 
ness  of  a  rhyme  for  the  sake  of  good  fellowship  merely  and 
with  no  distinct  and  ultimate  purpose  of  pecuniary  or 
political  preferment.  The  Prince  of  this  world  reckons  our 
station  by  what  we  have,  not  what  we  are;  by  what  we 
get,  not  what  we  give,  and  we  may  not  expect  his  smile 
nor  receive  the  unction  of  his  benediction;  but  there  are 
subtle  and  abiding  pleasures  that  many  a  humble  heart  has 
that  the  Prince  of  this  world  knows  not  nor  can  ever  know, 
gives  not  nor  can  ever  give,  takes  not  away  nor  can  ever 
take.  These  in  the  secret  silences  of  my  life  I  enjoy  and 
out  of  them  I  look  with  serenity  upon  the  busy,  battling 
crowds  that  surge  about  me — many  of  them  the  votaries  of 
the  Prince  who  applauds  the  winner,  win  he  never  so 
ignobly,  and  ignores  the  vanquished,  be  his  cause  as  grand 
as  that  of  Leonidas  and  his  heart  as  pure  as  the  very  lily's. 
Expecting  therefore  nothing  from  the  exchequers  of  the 
mart,  conscious  of  the  purity  of  my  purposes  and  my  life, 
asking  nothing  but  that  my  friends  be  my  good  friends  still, 
and  resolved  as  much  as  in  me  lies  to  be  at  peace  with  all 
the  world,  I  am,  in  God's  hands, 

THE  AUTHOR. 

THE  UNIVERSITY  SCHOOL, 

104  East  Jacob  Street, 

LOUISVILLE,  Kv.,  November  24th,  1892. 


TO  ONE  AND  ALL. 


Again,  amid  the  gliding  years, 

1  lay  aside  restricting  fears, 

And  venture  now  once  more  to  give 
The  world  the  life  I  daily  live. 
These  thoughts  I  set  to  jingling  rhyme 
Are  with  me  running  all  the  time. 

2  can  not  down  them  if  I  would; 
I  would  not  down  them  if  I  could. 
They  keep  me  on  the  hillsides  green 
Or  in  the  valleys  doivn  between  ; 
They  keep  me  'mid  the  waving  trees, 
The  songs  of  birds  and  buzz  of  bees  ; 
They  keep  me  where  the  flowers  bloom-, 
They  sometimes  lead  me  into  gloom ; 
They  lead  me  by  the  purling  streams  ; 
They  lap  me  in  Celestial  dreams  ; 
They  fill  my  heart  with  boundless  love, 
And  lift  my  soul  in  prayer  above. 

Good  friends,  who  know  and  love  me,  you 

Have  always  been  and  still  are  true. 

1  greet  you  with  a  loving  smile, 

A  good  warm  heart  all  free  from  guile. 

My  head  goes  often  wrong  I  know  ; 

I  would  to  God  it  were  not  so. 

My  heart  is  right  (you  know)  and  would 

Delight  in  always  doing  good. 


TO  ONE  AND  ALL. 

Despite  all  this,  there  will  arise 
Some  things  we  must  antagonize. 
Some  persons  there  will  ever  be 
Who  with  us  all  will  disagree, 
And  take  amiss  our  best  meant  acts 
Nor  wait  for  figures  or  for  facts. 
We  can  but  do  our  best  and  trust 
God  and  the  future  will  be  just. 
We  can  but  keep  our  hearts  aglow 
With  love  and  hope  and  tender  flow 
Of  kindly  feeling  and  restrain 
Our  hands  from  heaping  murderous  gain,- 
Then,  if  there  be,  as  be  there  will, 
Those  who'll  not  like  our  life-work  still, 
And  spread  their  dislike  with  the  tongue  ; 
Still  be  our  loving  heart-songs  sung. 
Unconscious  of  intended  wrong, 
We  move  serenely  life  along 
With  heart  aglow  with  holy  love 
Caught  from  Celestial  spheres  above, 
With  hands  extended  still  to  do 
Sotne  kindly  act,  O  friends,  for  you, 
And  eager  to  repay  with  good 
Afoeman,  if  misunderstood 
We  come  beneath  his  anger  dire 
And  face  his  well-delivered  fire. 
With  hate  toward  none  and  love  aglow 
Here's  to  you,  friend.     Here's  to  you,  foe. 
May  God,  who  rules  with  wisdom  true, 
jBless  you  and  me.     All  hail — Adieu. 


CONTENTS. 


I'AGE. 

I.     THE  CHASE i 

II.     ON  THE  LAKE 9 

III.  THE  DEPARTURE      21 

IV.  CREDE  LYLE 25 

V.     TO  ARMS 37 

VI.     CORDELE 43 

VII.     REVENGE 47 

VIII.     IN  PERIL'S  GRASP 51 

IX.     THE  GALA-NIGHT 57 

X.     NOUS  VERRONS 65 

XL     IN  HIS  VINEYARD 73 

XII.     TO  EACH  HIS  WAY 79 

XIII.  SIMPLICITY 85 

XIV.  SOLDIER,  ON! 91 

XV.     CORDELE 97 

XVI.     THE  COMBAT 105 

XVII.     THE  CHRISTMAS  FETE 113 


THE  CHASE. 


)  IP  the  long  length  of  "Gillet's  Spur" 

The  tired  stag  at  noon-day  went, 
And  full  twain  dozen  dogs,  at  least, 

The  forest  echoes  tore  and  rent. 
He  crossed  the  mountain's  crown  and  sped 

On  down  the  path  that  led  below 
To  where  the  circling  valley  spread 

A  wealth  of  summer's  golden  glow. 
A  thousand  trees  with  life  and  leaf 

Were  glad  with  hope  and  royal  glee, 
Along  the  trail  the  frightened  stag 

Now  chose  his  panting  way  to  flee. 


THE   CHASE. 

A  thousand  flowers  bloomed  and  breathed 

Upon  their  beds  of  moss  and  loam; 
A  thousand  birds  with  throats  made  glad 

The  precincts  of  their  forest  home. 
Still  on  and  on  the  young1  stag  ran 

Through  winding  woods,  by  forest  streams, 
While  from  the  mountain  top  there  rose 

The  dogs'  shrill  yelps  and  huntsmen's  screams. 
Young  Fairfax  led  the  dashing  crowd 

And  Jules  McMurdo  followed  near; 
Sim  Waldron  next  now  bends  him  o'er 

And  whispers  in  his  horse's  ear. 
With  whip  and  steel  the  riders  rash 

Leap  over  rocks  and  rails  and  all, 
And  answer  with  a  loud  huzza 

The  rushing  hounds'  far  distant  call, 
Or  wind  a  horn  whose  echoes  shrill 

Adown  the  mountain's  side  now  sped, 
And  reached  the  fleeing  stag  and  filled 

His  heart  with  yet  a  deeper  dread. 

(2) 


THE   CHASE. 

The  farm-house,  white  and  large  and  strong. 

Embowered  'mid  the  shrubbery  lay, 
While  oak  and  beech  and  hickory  vied 

To  keep  the  summer's  sun  away. 
The  mill-creek  ran  adown  the  vale 

And  kissed  the  meadow-lands  and  sent 
Its  dewy  breath  along  the  hills 

Where  corn-rows  ran  and  swayed  and  bent; 
And  now  far  down  the  way  it  met 

"The  Pond"  and  widened  out  and  grew 
To  be  a  pretty  lake  whose  waves 

Were,  like  the  skies  above  them,  blue. 
The  stag  came  onward  at  a  pace 

That  spoke  his  dread  nor  stopped  nor  stayed 
Until  he  reached  the  farm-house  where 

He  sought  the  women,  sore  afraid. 
Jean  reached  her  lily  arm  and  placed 

It  'round  his  neck  in  fond  caress; 
He  eyed  her  with  a  look  that  said, 

"She'll  rescue  me  in  my  distress." 

(3) 


THE   CHASE. 

Full  many  an  hour  had  Jean  and  he 

Together  roamed  the  woodlands  o'er, 
Full  many  a  time  upon  the  heights 

Stopped  at  some  neighbor's  open  door; 
Full  many  a  time  he'd  circled  'round 

The  pathway  they  had  often  gone; 
But  ne'er  before  had  his  good  ear 

Caught  dogs'  deep  cry  or  huntsman's  horn. 
"Be  still  my  pretty  deer,"  she  said, 

"They  shall  not  harm  a  single  hair; 
Your  mistress  loves  you  and  will  show 

These  saucy  huntsmen  what  you  are." 
The  light  shown  in  her  deep  brown  eyes, 

Her  chestnut  locks  were  rich  and  neat, 
Her  cheeks  were  rosy,  and  her  skin, 

A  luscious  hue,  was  soft  and  sweet. 
She  smiled  and  opened  lips  that  were 

As  cherries  in  the  May-time  seem. 
Her  pearly  teeth  were  finer  far 

Than  poet  ever  yet  could  dream. 

(4) 


THE   CHASE. 

She  laughed  and  rippling  music  fell 

In  merry  waves  upon  the  ear. 
She  laughed,  and  when  she  did,  she  grew 

To  all  who  heard  her  still  more  dear. 
Cordelia  by  her  side  now  stood— 

Anon  she  turned  about  and  laid 
Her  hand  upon  the  frightened  deer — 

A  pretty,  blue-eyed  city  maid. 
The  dogs  were  coming  down  the  side 

Of  long  *"No  Business,"  and  their  cry 
Drew  near  and  nearer  to  the  house 

With  threats  that  meant  to  kill  or  die. 
Cordele  and  Jean  feared  for  their  pet, 

And  led  it  up  the  steps  in  rear, 
Along  the  porch-way  to  the  hall, 

Along  the  hall-way,  and,  in  fear, 
Up  the  long  stair-way  to  the  porch 

That  crowned  the  front-view  safe  and  high 

*  A  Mountain  in  Virginia. 

(5) 


THE   CHASE. 

And  looked  o'er  lowlands  far  and  near 

And  reaches  of  sweet  azure  sky. 
The  porch  door  closed,  they  stood  and  saw 

The  hounds  now  rush  across  the  vale, 
And  huntsmen  dashing  down  the  way 

Swift  and  yet  swifter  on  the  trail. 
Cordele  knelt  down  and  put  her  arms 

About  the  deer's  neck;  Jean  stood  still 
And  watched  the  coming  cavalcade, 

Prepared  to  meet  them  with  stout  will. 
Her  eyes  flashed  fire  and  lips  were  full 

Of  ill-repressed  emotion  then; 
She  well  could  meet,  and  meeting,  rout 

An  even  score  or  more  of  men. 
The  dogs  came  on  and  circled  round 

The  house  and  rested  right  below, 
And  sent  their  cries  that  rose  and  seemed 

As  bent  to  bring  the  poor  thing  woe. 
The  huntsmen  came  at  break-neck  speed, 

And  checked  their  horses,  looked  above 

(6) 


THE   CHASE. 

And  saw  the  quarry  they  pursued 

Safe  in  the  arms  of  tender  love. 
With  lifted  hats  they  craved  them  grace 

And  got  it  right  upon  the  spot; 
The  farmer  bade  them  light  and  tie 

Their  reeking  horses  piping  hot. 
Sim  tipped  a  wink  or  two  to  Jules, 

But  Fairfax  cool  ignored  their  sin, 
And  stately  as  a  lord  of  old 

He  led  his  retinue  within. 


(7) 


ON  THE  LAKE. 


'HE  summer  is  a  leal,  good 
time 

For  those  who  have  no  anxious  thought, 
Who  catch  the  sunshine  in  their  hearts 

And  hold  it  there  when  once  'tis  caught, 
Who  meet  and  greet  and  smile  and  go 

And  come  again  and  bid  adieu 
With  kindly  feeling  for  the  old 

And  goodly  welcome  to  the  new, 
Who  ne'er  grow  old  in  life  or  heart, 

Come  day  or  night,  come  weal  or  woe, 
But  take  in  good  part  all  that  comes 

And  thank  their  stars  that  it  is  so. 
Our  huntsmen  were  a  jolly  set, 

And  royally  they  took  their  glee— 

(9) 


ON   THE  LAKE. 

To  chase  a  stag  upon  the  height 

Or  woo  a  maiden  on  the  lea. 
The  horses  sought  the  meadows  green, 

The  masters  sought  the  table  long, 
The  dimpled  maidens  sat  between, 

And  all  went  merry  as  a  song. 
Cordele  was  soft  and  winning  sweet, 

And  Jean  was  stately  in  her  grace, 
And  wit  and  humor,  persiflage 

And  sense  found  each  its  proper  place. 
The  meal  discussed,  they  then  withdrew 

To  where  the  spacious  parlors  were, 
And  music  lent  its  subtle  charm 

To  while  away  the  time  with  cheer. 
"Cordele,  Cordele,"  the  cry  went  up, 

"Cordele,  a  song?"  The  blue-eyed  maid 
Then  touched  the  keys  and  thus  she  sang 

The  while  her  fingers  nimbly  played. 


(10) 


ON   THE  LAKE. 


A  stag  came  over  the  mountains,  O ! 
A  stag  came  over  the  mountains,  O  ! 
A  stag  came  over  the  mountains,  O ! 

And  the  dogs  came  following  after. 
Three  knights  came  over  the  mountains,  O ! 
Three  knights  came  over  the  mountains,  O ! 
Three  knights  came  over  the  mountains,  O ! 

I  "carn't"  sing  now  for  laughter, 
Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha, 

I  "carn't"  sing  now  for  laughter. 

When  wolves  are  out  and  abroad,  my  dear, 
When  wolves  are  out  and  abroad,  my  dear,- 
When  wolves  are  out  and  abroad,  my  dear, 

The  lambs  may  look  for  danger. 
I've  something  to  tell,  you  had  better  hear, 
I've  something  to  tell,  you  had  better  hear, 
I've  something  to  tell,  you  had  better  hear, 

Beware,  beware  the  stranger, 
Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha, 

You  had  better  beware  the  stranger. 


(ii) 


ON   THE  LAKE. 

Jules  rose  in  well-feigned  wrath  and  swore 

She  wronged  their  knightly  valor,  and 
He  gave  his  arm  and  led  away 

The  little  beauty  from  the  stand. 
They  passed  along  the  gravel  walk 

On  toward  the  lake's  inviting  brim, 
And  Jean  and  Fairfax  followed  suit — 

A  maiden  aunt  attended  Sim. 
The  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west 

On  downy  beds  of  varied  hues, 
The  length 'ning  shadows  threw  their  arms 

Around  the  three  embarking  crews. 
Cordele  and  Jules  sped  on  ahead, 

Fairfax  and  Jean  kept  to  the  right, 
Sim  and  the  aunt — somewhat  demure- 
Slow  followed  on,  but  still  in  sight. 
Cordele  was  in  her  merry  mood, 

And  laughed  and  sang  and  talked  and  ran 
Her  hand  along  the  water's  top 

And  dared  whate'er  a  maiden  can. 

(12) 


OAr   THE   LAKE. 

"I'm  weary  of  the  good  and  grand, 

I'm  weary  of  the  city's  glare, 
I  would  I  were  a  bird  and  might 

Be  free  to  skim  the  realms  of  air; 
I'd  like  to  do  whate'er  I  choose, 

I'd  like  to  go  where  e'er  I  please, 
I'd  like  to  say  just  what  comes  up 

And  take  the  world  in  perfect  ease. 
A  woman — aye !  a  woman,  O ! 

They've  got  me  fastened  up  in  stays, 
They've  got  my  feet  encircled  'round 

With  skirts  that  clog  my  path  always. 

0  blasted  bonds — a  knife,  a  knife 
To  cut  them  and  to  make  me  free. 

My  life,  my  all  I  offer — take— 
For  one  sweet  breath  of  liberty. 

1  care  not  for  the  dread  'on  dit' 

That  rules  the  world  and  makes  it  sin 
To  step  beyond  the  beaten  path 

And  view  the  mysteries  within. 
03) 


ON   THE  LAKE. 

Here's  to  thee,  Mater  Libertas, 

I  raise  thy  standard  and  hurrah; 
Peace  to  him  who  now  sues  for  peace, 

For  him  who  sues  for  war,  here's  war. 
Cordele  is  free.      She  bids  adieu 

To  all  restraints  of  time  or  tide; 
Come,  speed  the  vessel  straight  ahead, 

And  while  we  ride,  why,  .let  us  ride. " 
Jules  answered  with  a  merry  laugh 

And  wicked  twinkle  in  his  eye: 
'  'Fair  sister  of  the  Eastern  land 

I  welcome  your  philosophy. 
Life  is  too  short  for  serious  things; 

The  shadows  lie  along  the  ground, 
The  sunlight  comes  not  every  day, — 

Let's  take  it  while  it  may  be  found. 
'Dum  vivimus,  vivamus, '  then, 

The  motto  of  our  mutual  plight, 
We  twine  the  gilded  light  of  day 

Around  the  gloomy  form  of  night. 
(14) 


ON   THE  LAKE. 


Speed,  vessel,  o'er  the  waters  blue, 
Speed,  vessel,  and  our  song  shall  be 

Henceforth,    'Hurrah  for  love  and  light, 
Hurrah  for  love  and  liberty." 


Fairfax  and  Jean  were  soberer  folks; 

They  talked  of  many  noble  things, 
Of  God  and  man  and  nature  sweet, 

And  all  life's  wondrous  happenings. 
He  loved  a  jest,  enjoyed  a  laugh, 

And  chased  a  deer  or  winged  a  bird, 
But  still  he  loved  the  true  and  good, 

And  most  of  all,  God's  Blessed  Word. 
Whose  heart  is  true  can  laugh  as  well 

As  he  whose  heart  is  steeped  in  guile; 
Whose  lips  are  pure  can  be  as  glad 

As  he  whose  words  are  reeking  vile. 
There  is  no  clash  between  a  song 

That  gleams  with  merriment  and  glee 
(15) 


ON   THE   LAKE. 

And  that  Sweet  One  who  lived  and  died 

To  bless  the  bleeding  world  and  me. 
The  noble  name  that  Fairfax  wore 

Was  passport  to  the  country  wide; 
His  presence  at  a  farmer's  door 

Made  Jolly  Welcome  strut  with  pride. 
This  made  the  house  he  had  drawn  near 

So  warm  and  cheery  at  his  sight; 
This  gave  to  Jean  the  confidence 

To  row  abroad  with  coming  night; 
She  felt  that  at  the  oar-locks  sat 

A  man  whose  soul  was  Honor's  own, 
Who  ruled  a  realm  far  wider  than 

A  jeweled  monarch  on  his  throne — 
Himself,  a  vast  intelligence, 

Wide  fields  of  thoughts  and  lands  of  dream, 
The  inner  realms  of  consciousness; 

The  hidden  heavens  which  rounding  gleam 
AVith  worlds  on  worlds  within  them  set 

And  beauties  of  unreckoned  worth 

(16) 


ON   THE  LAKE. 

That  make  a  home  of  endless  bliss 

Out  of  the  humblest  heart  on  earth. 
Some  natures  are  so  nobly  made 

We  trust  them  with  a  perfect  trust; 
Some  forms  so  grandly  fashioned  are 

We  can't  believe  them  made  of  dust. 
They  come  at  intervals  as  comes 

The  bloom  upon  the  century  tree,— 
Are  Philip  Sidney  in  one  age 

And  in  another  Robert  Lee. 
The  seeds  of  their  lives  scattered  through 

All  the  interstices  of  Time 
Will  flower  and  fruit  in  every  age, 

On  every  shore,  in  deeds  sublime. 
Fairfax  was  one  whom  men  revered, 

And  women  worshipped  as  a  god; 
A  leader  born,  he  seemed  to  own 

Each,  inch  of  ground  on  which  he  trod. 
A  subtle  consciousness  of  worth 

Clothed  all  he  did  and  all  he  said; 

(17) 


ON   THE  LAKE. 

He  feared  no  living  man,  and  yet 

Oft  bowed  before  a  pretty  maid. 
He  saw  in  woman's  beauty  glow 

The  richest  colors  of  the  Hand 
Whose  skill  artistic  paints  the  world 

And  makes  the  humblest  floweret  grand. 
Her  presence  was  a  hidden  song 

That  thrilled  him  with  a  rich  delight; 
A  breezy  freshness  clothed  his  form, 

His  face  put  on  a  newer  light. 
When  on  his  ear  her  accents  fell, 

And  on  his  sight  there  beamed  her  eye, 
For  her  he'd  bare  his  arm  and  fight; 

For  her  he'd  win  the  day  or  die. 
Hail  heroes  of  the  elder  time! 

Hail  knights  that  Arthur  led  of  old! 
Sir  Galahad  were  worth  to-day 

A  thousand  knights  whose  god  is  gold. 
Fairfax  now  wound  his  horn,  and  lo! 

The  three  boats  came  from  quarters  wide, 

(i  8) 


ON   THE  LAKE. 

And  turned  their  prows  the  homeward  way, 
Slow  moving  onward  side  by  side. 

Cordele,  the  blue-eyed,  raised  the  song, 
And  all  joined  in  with  merry  glee; 

The  moon  shone  bright  and  sweet  above, 
And  touched  them  with  her  witchery. 


(19) 


THE  DEPARTURE. 


'HE  morrow  on  the  hill-tops 

stctod 
And  sun-light  shone  upon  her 

face, 
The  while  her  pretty  smile  would  woo 

The  huntsmen  to  another  chase. 
They  gave  their  squires  the  word  to  bring 

Their  champing  steeds  from  stables  near, 
And,  taking  up  their  horns,  they  wound 
Their  notes  across  the  lowlands  clear. 
The  answering  cry  of  hounds  arose 

As  eager  for  the  coming  fray; 
Cordele  broke  into  song  and  held 
Her  pretty  cup  in  tempting  way: 

(21) 


THE  DEPARTURE. 

31 


"Are  you  ready  for  the  chase,  my  lads, 

Across  the  circling  plain  ? 
Are  you  ready  for  the  chase,  my  lads  ? 

Here's  to  you  once  again. 
Lift  the  bugle,  loose  the  leashes, 

Let  your  steeds  now  shake  their  mane, 
But  before  you  ply  the  spurs,  my  lads, 

Here's  to  you  once  again. 

-  Are  you  ready  for  the  chase,  my  lads. 

Upon  the  distant  steep  ? 
Are  you  ready  for  the  chase,  my  lads  ? 

Here's  to  you  long  and  deep. 
May  the  maidens  that  await  you 

Have  no  reason  e'er  to  weep; 
But  before  you  ply  the  spurs,  my  lads, 

Here's  to  you  long  and  deep. 

Are  you  ready  for.  the  chase,  my  lads, 

Across  the  rivers  wide  ? 
Are  you  ready  for  the  chase,  my  lads  ? 

Here's  health,  what  e'er  betide. 
Lift  the  bugle,  loose  the  leashes, 

And  your  noble  steeds  bestride  ; 
But  before  you  ply  your  spurs,  my  lads, 

Here's  health,  whate'er  betide." 
(22) 


THE  DEPARTURE. 

The  huntsmen  cheered  with  lifted  hats 

And  promised  they  would  come  again,— 
Sank  rowels  in  their  gallant  steeds 

And  sped  across  the  pretty  plain. 
The  dogs  were  gone;  their  hayings  deep 

Were  heard  upon  the  mountain's  side 
Up  which  our  heroes  clambered  now 

With  something  of  a  martial  pride. 
The  deeds  of  doughty  prowess  done 

Upon  the  eve  of  yesterday, 
Within  their  hearts  in  fondest  thought 

Are  stored  forever  now  away; 
And,  though  they  westward  ride  them  now 

With  manhood  pulsing  in  each  vein, 
Jules  dreams  of  Cordele's  merry  mood 

And  Fairfax  walks  with  Jean  again. 
They  reached  their  homes  and  went  their  ways. 

The  daily  sun-rise  came  and  went. 
Days  waxed  to  weeks,  weeks  waxed  to  months, 

And  seasons  with  the  seasons  blent. 

(23) 


THE  DEPARTURE. 

Who  once  have  met  may,  if  they  wish, 
And  naught  prevent  yet  meet  again, 

Though  mountains  rise  and  surly  threat 
The  pretty  poutings  of  the  plain. 


(24) 


CREDE  LYLE. 


SINEWY  form,  an  eagle 

eye, 

A  step  elastic,  and  an  arm 
Of  iron  mould, — such  was  Crede 

Lyle— 

The  owner  of  the  neighboring  farm. 
An  alien  to  these  parts,  he  knew 

The  skill  to  make  the  harvest  gleam 
With  glorious  plenty  and  the  grass 

In  velvet  splendor  clothe  the  stream. 
As  now  he  moved  beneath  the  trees 

And  caught  the  wild  flower  from  its  stalk, 
The  boughs  bent  low  and  pricked  their  ears 

To  listen  to  his  fitful  talk: 
(25) 


CREDE  LYLE. 

<(Her  form  is  as  a  sculptor's  dream, 

Her  eye  is  magic's  self  and  leads 
Me  as  a  captive  and  my  heart 

For  closer  fellowship  still  pleads. 
I  know  not  what  this  force  may  be 

That  lies  within  the  inmost  soul 
And  will  not  down,  but  reaches  forth 

And  holds  the  whole  man  in  control. 
I've  simply  met  her  as  a  friend 

Should  meet  a  neighbor,  yet  I  know 
She's  set  my  flood  of  feelings  all 

Now  toward  her  with  impulsive  flow. 
A  silent  moon  whose  silver  beam 

Falls  o'er  my  being's  rock-ribbed  shore, 
She  lashes  or  allays  its  waves — 

Its  mistress  now  and  evermore." 
An  acorn  from  the  tree  now  dropped; 

He  turned  his  head;  not  far  away 
Upon  a  clump  of  moss-grown  rocks 

A  pretty  deer  was  now  at  play, 

(26) 


CREDE   LYLE. 

Upon  its  neck  great  ribbons  blue, — 

And  ho!  who's  that  who's  just  in  sight — 
A  ray  of  sunlight  hidden  there 

Within  this  almost  sylvan  night? 
He  kept  the  path  that  brought  him  near 

And  tipped  his  hat  to  lovely  Jean, 
Who  smiled  and  wove  the  wild  red-rose 

And  cypress  with  the  eglantine. 
"I  like  this  land,"  now  Lyle  began, 

"For  nature  here  is  lavish,  and 
Her  bounties  smiling  group  and  bless 

The  waiting  eye  on  every  hand. 
I  wandered  many  a  good  league  forth 

To  find  a  spot  would  charm  my  stay 
Until  I  chanced  on  this,  I  love,— 

I  hope — upon  a  lucky  day. 
The  generous  soil  responds  with  glee 

To  kindly  treatment  and  my  bins 
O'erflow  each  year  and  life  is  passed 

Far  from  the  great  world's  greater  sins." 
(27) 


CREDE   LYLE. 

A  cloud  o'erspread  his  brow  just  then. 

His  words  provoked  a  sleeping  thought; 
To  turn  it  off,  he  asked  of  Jean 

"What  pretty  thing  was  that  she  wrought?" 
"Oh!    just  a  nosegay,"  she  replied, 

"Of  wild  flowers  that  I  thought  I'd  make 
For  Tillie  Dare,  the  invalid, 

Who  lives  down  yonder  by  the  lake. 
And  wont  you  help  me  just  a  bit  ? 

Be  neighborly  and  get  me  now 
That  honey-suckle  standing  there, 

Those  pretty  leaves  from  off  that  bough." 
Lyle  answered  now  her  every  wish, 

And  heaped  the  rock  she  sat  upon 
With  all  the  gifts  the  forest  has 

Until  her  kindly  work  was  done. 
Then  on  they  moved  and  came  at  length 

To  where  the  mill-creek  turned  the  wheel, 
.\nd  Tillie  Dare  lay  pale  and  weak, 

Where  sun-rays  through  the  shadows  steal 
(28) 


CPEDE  LYLE. 

And  try  to  cheer  her  lingering  days 

That  need  but  little  here  below 
Save  human  sympathy  and  love 

To  lighten  with  their  tender  glow. 
Poor  Tillie  knew  her  days  were  few, 

Yet  repined  not,  but  in  good  part 
Bore  her  sad  lot  and  gave  to  Jean 

Warm  thanks  from  out  a  grateful  heart. 
"How  good  you  are  to  come  and  see 

My  flick'ring  life  hang  quiv'ring  here! 
The  smile  you  bring  and  kindly  word 

Fill  me  always  with  sunnier  cheer. 
Our  lives  are  as  the  days  that  go, 

Or  bright  with  sun  or  dark  with  cloud. 
They  bring  to  men  or  weal  or  woe, 

And  bless  or  blight  the  circling  crowd. 
Blest  is  the  life  that's  hid  with  God, 

Whose  pathway  is  a  ray  of  light 
To  heal  the  stroke  of  Time's  rough  rod 

And  make  the  gloomy  world's  heart  bright. 
(29) 


CREDE  LYLE. 

To  him  who  living  lifts  his  race 

To  see  and  know  the  sweeter  ways 
Of  his  good  Master,  death  is  grace 

And  plentitude  of  endless  praise. 
The  wide  circumference  of  soul 

That  circles  through  the  lives  of  men 
To  bless  with  fellowship  the  whole 

Finds  death  but  life  begun  again. 
God  rules — the  Maker  of  all  things, 

He  crowns  the  toiler  with  His  rest— 
A  blessed  life  in  death  still  brings 

The  blessing  of  all  blessings  best. 
How  envied  then  you,  needs,  should  be 

By  all  whose  lives  your  sweet  life  touch, 
Not  for  the  wealth  that  smiles  around, 

But  that  your  hand  has  done  so  much! 
I  soon  must  go,  but  from  the  skies 

I  send  my  prayer  that  God  may  bless 
The  gentle  heart  whose  gentle  hand 

Relieves  the  stricken  in  distress." 
(30) 


CREDE   LYLE. 

Jean  blushed  and  kissed  the  pallid  brow; 

Lyle  looked  at  Jean  and  thought,   "I  own 
This  is  the  queenliest  woman  that 

Was  ever  on  or  off  a  throne." 
With  kindly  parting  words  they  went 

Along  the  lake's  o'ershadowed  brim; 
The  pretty  deer  ran  at  their  side, 

Or  plunged  into  the  lake  to  swim. 
Lyle  wished  he  had  the  will  to  say 

All  his  heart  felt,  but  't  was  in  vain; 
So  he  resolved  he'd  put  it  off, 

Until  by  chance  they  met  again. 
They  talked  as  people  who  have  read 

And  travelled  much  are  wont  to  talk, 
And  found  when  they  had  reached  her  home 

They  each  had  had  a  pleasant  walk. 
The  shades  of  eve  were  coming  on, 

When  Credo  bade  adieu  and  went 
His  homeward  way  with  busy  thoughts 

And  head  unconscious  downward  bent. 
(31) 


CREDE  LYLE. 

What  thoughts  he  thought — what  memories 
woke — 

I  can  not  tell,  I  only  know 
His  brow  was  pursed,  his  hand  was  clenched, 

He  struggled  with  some  hidden  woe. 
He  muttered  to  himself  strange  words 

Of  "fate"  and  "wrong"  and  "who  could 

tell?" 
When  on  his  ear  a  cheery  song, 

Yet  tinged  with  sorrow,  sudden  fell. 
He  looked  and  there  the  cottage  home 

Of  Embry  Duncan  lay  before, 
And  "Luce,"  his  daughter,  swung  the  churn 

And  sang  just  out  the  vine-clad  door : 


(32) 


CREDE   LYLE. 


"Dapple  Daisy  down  the  meadow  lowing  coming  back, 
And  the  calf  within  the  cowpen  runs  the  beaten  track. 
Each  is  happy  with  the  thinking  of  the  meeting  near, 
But  I  sit  and  wait  still  wishing  for  thy  coming,  dear. 

Churn,  go  forward, 

Churn,  go  backward, 
While  my  song  must  be : 

Come,  butter,  come, 

Come,  butter,  come, 
And  come,  my  love,  to  me. 

Birds  are  singing  gaily  upon  bush  and  tree ; 
Each  as  happy  with  its  mate  as  a  bird  can  be. 
If  they  part  a  moment,  they  soon  meet  again; 
But  thy  lingering,  loved  one,  gives  me  endless  pain. 

Churn,  go  forward, 

Churn,  go  backward, 
While  my  song  must  be  : 

Come,  butter,  come, 

Come,  butter,  come, 
And  come,  my  love,  to  me." 


(33) 


CREDE  LYLE. 

He  shook  his  head  as  on  he  passed. 

"Sweet  child,"  he  thought,  "you  do  not 

know 
Nor  ever  will,  I  hope,  the  depths — 

The  deepest  depths  of  hidden  woe. 
The  bloom  is  on  your  pretty  cheek. 

Be  patient  and  he'll  soon  be  here. 
The  butter  comes  and  so  comes  he 

To  give  you  joy  and  share  your  cheer. 
Who  sighs  for  wider  sweep  of  life 

But  sighs  for  wider  chance  of  wrong. 
May  all  the  'endless  pain'  you  have 

Flow  forth,  my  pretty  maid,  in  song, 
And,  while  it  sweetens  your  pent  heart, 

Make  glad  the  wings  of  neighboring  air, 
And  bless  alike  the  maker  and 

The  object  of  your  gentle  prayer. 
For  me,  ah!  well" — he  crossed  the  creek, 

Passed  through  the  gate  and  stood 
before 

(34) 


CREDE  LYLE. 


His  home,  reached  out  and  turned  the  knob 
Passed  in  and  locked  the  heavy  door. 


(35) 


TO  ARMS. 


5 TERN  war  arose.     The  rolling  drum 
And  shrill  voiced  fife  were  calling  men 
To  arms!  to  arms!  and  tramping  feet 

Throughout  the  land  were  heard  again. 
Fairfax  rode  o'er  his  acres  wide, 

And  viewed  them  in  their  laughing  wealth. 
His  workmen  met  him  with  a  smile, 

Rejoicing  in  their  homes  and  health. 
He  sighed  to  think  of  what  he'd  read 
Of  war  and  its  destructive  hand, 
(37) 


TO  ARMS. 

And  wondered  when  the  Master's  love 

Would  bring  sweet  peace  to  every  land. 
He  loved  his  country  and  her  rights, — 

His  mother  State  far  best  of  all, 
And  there  resolved  he'd  draw  no  sword 

Save  at  her  most  emphatic  call. 
But  then,  alas!  too  soon  it  came — 

The  tide  of  battle  sweeping  by; 
He  saw  his  State's  dread  jeopardy 

And  heard  her  to  her  children  cry. 
Along  the  vales,  upon  the  hills, 

Th'  awakened  farmers  gathered  then 
And  looked  about  them  for  a  man — 

The  leader  of  his  fellow-men. 
All  tongues  cried  out,   "Fairfax,  Fairfax" - 

All  eyes  now  sought  him  from  afar. 
Jules,  Sim  and  hundreds  more  now  came 

To  have  him  lead  them  forth  to  war. 
He  donned  his  uniform  and  sword 

And  mounted  on  his  famous  steed, 
(38) 


TO  ARMS. 

With  will  to  meet  the  stoutest  foe 

And  heart  to  pity  those  who'd  bleed. 
Still  more  and  more  the  throng  increased 

Till  all  the  old  "militia  ground" 
Was  filled  with  farmers,  workmen,  all 

Who  lived  for  miles  and  miles  around. 
The  drilling  squadrons  moved  by  day; 

The  camp-fires  glowed  at  fall  of  night; 
The  hearts  of  men  seemed  bent  upon 

One  thought  alone  "to  fight,  to  fight." 
Fairfax  moved  here  and  there  and  made 

Arrangements  for  th'  unlettered  crowd. 
While  in  his  sacred  heart  he  bore 

A  silent  prayer,  their  talk  was  loud. 
They  clamored  for  the  coming  fight 

And  revelled  in  the  thought  of  gore; 
He  prayed  within  his  heart  for  peace— 

For  peace  and  brotherhood  once  more. 
For  war  is  war,  terrific  and 

The  hand  of  passion  running  mad, 

(39) 


TO  ARMS. 

The  woe  of  woman  and  the  worst 

Of  foes  a  child  has  ever  had. 
The  savings  of  unnumbered  years, 

The  guidings  of  a  father's  hand, 
The  generous  promptings  of  the  heart 

When  peace  and  plenty  fill  the  land; 
These  in  wild  flames  are  swept  away, 

And  on  the  coming  youth  is  thrown 
The  harvest  of  unnumbered  woes, 

Thick  through  the  coming  morrows  sown. 
This  Fairfax  knew  and  on  his  brow 

Care  stamped  her  wrinkle,  and  his  heart 
Was  heavy  with  the  woes  he  knew 

Were  War's  own  bitter,  bounden  part. 
Alone  upon  his  matchless  steed 

Across  the  hill,  across  the  plain, 
And  o'er  the  mountains  was  he  come 

To  sweet  "Glen-Mary"  once  again. 
Jean  met  him  with  a  smile  of  peace, 

A  hand  that  good,  warm  welcome  gave; 
(40) 


TO  ARMS. 

But  sorrowed  at  his  serious  brow 

And  martial  manner  stern  and  grave. 

At  hour  fitting  forth  they  went, 
Beneath  the  overhanging  trees, 

In  quiet  chat  of  events  which 

Would  soon  be  winged  across  the  seas. 


(41) 


CORDELE. 


'HE  smoke  was  hanging  thick 

and  grim 
Above  the  city's  throbbing 

heart, 

Where  pulsed  the  blood  of  traffic  and 
Where  pined  in  poverty  High  Art. 
The  greedy  herd  moved  on  and  bowed 

With  one  accord  to  Mammon's  sway,— - 
With  vice  they  thrilled  the  heart  of  night, 

With  painted  virtue  cheated  day. 
A  pretty  mansion  rising  high 

Upon  a  noted  thoroughfare— 
A  cosy  chamber — windows  wide — 

And  Cordele  reading  sitting  there; — 

(43) 


CORDELE. 

This  is  the  picture,  and  we  hear 

The  words  she  reads — this  blue-eyed 

belle— 
"I  come,  Cordele,  the  war  is  on; 

I  come,  my  love,  to  bid  farewell.". 
"He  comes — dear  Jules!    He  comes,  and  I 

Shall  scatter  roses  in  his  way. 
My  father's  wealth  shall  gild  the  night 

And  frame  in  joy  the  fleeting  day. 
He's  made  it  and  I  know  not  how. 

He  gives  it  time  he  ne'er  gave  me, 
I'll  spend  it  as  I  get  a  chance 

In  many  a  jolly  jamboree. 
Come,  Jules,  soul  of  my  soul,  and  we, 

My  naughty  soldier-boy,  shall  sound 
The  depth  of  every  jollity, 

That  in  this  city  may  be  found. 
So  that  I  drink  the  bumper  full 

The  present  moment  gives,  I  care 


(44) 


CORDELE. 

No  whit  for  all  the  after  moons 

That  wax  and  wane,  however  fair. 
The  heart  that  built  this  mansion  grand 

Knows  nothing"  of  those  softer  things 
(The  goody  good  will  prate  of  them) 

About  which  every  poet  sings. 
He  laughs  to  scorn  these  Christian  thoughts, 

And  I  but  echo  in  my  heart 
The  thoughts  that  days  and  months  and 
years 

Have  been  of  him  the  larger  part. 
Here's  to  thee,  sweet  Utility, 

His  end  and  aim  the  dollar  is, 
Mine  is  my  pleasure  and  I  find 

That  mine  is  mine,  since  his  is  his. 
Servant,  ahoy!  bring  up  the  cup 

Thy  master  drinks  his  wine  from,  I 
Will  see  if  I  can  quench  my  thirst 

As  he  does  often  when  he's  dry. 


(45) 


CORDELE. 

Bring  me  a  'Ouida.'     Let  me  read 

Of  gilded  sin  as  virtue  rare. 
If  callers  ring,  tell  them,  I  pray, 

I've  gone  a  driving — anywhere. 
So  that  I  get  my  ease,  I  care 

But  little  for  this  social  whir 
That  money  buys.      Sweet  Voluptas, 

I  am  your  loving  worshipper. 
Come,  Jules,  and  join  me  and  we'll  find 

Two  hearts  that  beat  for  aye  as  one; 
Here's  to  thee,  con  amore,  mine— 

A  bumper,  once,  twice,  thrice,  I've  done. 


(46) 


REVENGE. 


^REDE  LYLE  was  reared  upon 

the  lap 
Of  Luxury,  and  his  life  had 

lain 
Amid  a  stormy  war  of  words 

Wrought  by  the  miser-heart  of  Gain. 
Nor  had  the  conflict  stopped  with  words, 
But  Passion  stirred  the  pistol's  flame;— 
A  human  life  was  offered  up 

To  satisfy  fell  Anger's  claim. 
His  mother  was  a  vengeful  soul 

Who  ne'er  forgave  a  conceived  harm, 
But  nursed  her  wrath  against  the  day 
She  could  assuage  it  with  her  arm. 

(47) 


REVENGE. 

Hamilcar-like  she  led  her  charge— 

A  dimpled  boy — and  made  him  swear 
Eternal  vengeance  on  each  head 

Her  caprice  chose  just  anywhere. 
Enough  she  had  to  squander  far 

In  idle  chance  and  yet  her  greed 
Still  clamored  more  and  more  for  more 

Than  any  human  soul  could  need. 
An  honored  name  was  linked  in  trade 

With  her  dead  husband's,  and  she 

dreamed 
A  wrong  was  wrought  her,  and  her  eye 

At  mention  of  that  good  name  gleamed. 
The  wordy  war  had  lingered  on 

In  suit  with  suit  in  common  law, 
Till  Justice  cast  it  out  at  length, 

And  stirred  her  with  its  solemn  awe. 
She  took  redress  unto  herself 

And,  leading  by  his  hand  her  boy, 


(48) 


REVENGE. 

She  made  him  fire  the  fatal  shot 

That  slew  a  household's  tender  joy — 
The  gentlest  of  his  race  and  best — 

The  eldest  of  the  Fairfax  name, 
Whose  fancied  wrong  she'd  laid  away 

And  nurtured  as  a  holy  flame. 
The  hand  of  Law  had  siezed  and  placed 

Her  frenzied  soul  in  "durance  vile;" 
For  life,  the  nation's  guardians  thought 

It  best  to  house  her  witless  guile. 
For  safety's  sake  Crede  went  elsewhere; 

But  she  had  nursed  his  wrath  to  flame 
And  urged  and  urged  him  ne'er  to  leave, 

On  her  cursed  soul,  one  of  that  name. 
One  day  he  heard  Jean  mention — what? 

The  Fairfax  name  and  speak  its  praise. 
His  heart  leaped  high  and  passion  stirred 

As  it  had  stirred  in  other  days. 
She  told  him  of  the  coming  war — 

The  tramp  of  men  and  loud  alarms — 

(49) 


REVENGE. 

The  flocking  of  the  freemen  all 

In  answer  to  the  call  to  arms. 
And,  when  he  learned  that  Fairfax  led 

The  embattled  hosts,  his  spirit  stirred 
To  lead  his  foes  and  meet  him  yet, — 

But  still  he  spoke  no  bitter  word. 
Henceforth  in  vale  and  mountain  dell 

He  sought  for  comrades  for  his  flag, 
And  trained  them  to  the  use  of  arms 

On  lowland  leas  and  upland  crag. 
For  one  fell  purpose  they  were  called — 

A  holy  one  to  him  he  dreamed;— 
To  slay  a  wrecker  of  his  home, 

Each  drawn  and  sharpened  sword  now 

gleamed. 
He  tutored  them  in  sweet  revenge, 

And  told  them  of  his  mother's  wrongs. 
They  mixed  their  anger  in  their  cups 

And  sang  it  in  their  battle  songs. 


IN  PERIL'S  GRASP. 

H|  I  j  ^HEN  Fairfax  now  at 

that  calm  hour 
Forth  'neath  the  trees 
walked  arm  in  arm 
With  pretty  Jean,  he  never  dreamt 

An  eye  was  near  that  meant  him  harm. 
Crede  Lyle,  as  fate  would  have  it,  walked 

In  meditative  mood  along, 
And  every  thought  was  teeming  now 

With  something  of  his  fancied  wrong, 
When  suddenly  he  saw  quite  near 
Two  forms  majestic  moving  on; 
He  stepped  from  off  the  path  and  stood 

Behind  the  heavy  scented  thorn. 

(SO 


IN  PERIL'S  GRASP. 

Too  deep  their  thoughts  imbedded  were 

In  events  fraught  with  thousands'  fate 
To  scan  the  pretty  landscape  for 

The  nurser  of  a  hidden  hate. 
Lyle's  eye  was  gleaming  and  his  heart 

Was  beating  as  't  would  burst  in  twain. 
His  passion  ebbed  and  flowed  and  ebbed 

And  flowed  and  ebbed  and  flowed  again. 
He  took  his  pistol — cocked  it — raised 

His  hand  and  took  deliberate  aim; 
Jean  moving  on  and  talking  soft 

Unconscious  now  between  them  came. 
"Poor  human  beings, "  thus  she  spoke, 

"There  is,  I  think,  enough  of  woe 
In  this  sweet  world  for  men  who're  men 

To  stop  and  think  and  know  it's  so, 
Before  they  draw  their  swords  and  try 

To  hew  each  other  and  make  moan 
For  thousands  who  on  either  side 

Are  doubly  dear  unto  their  own. 

(52) 


IN  PER  IDS  GRASP. 

There  was  a  time  when  Odin  ruled 

And  Hogni's  heart  on  dish  was  laid 
And  served  to  Gunnar  and  he  smiled 

With  calm  sweet  joy  as  sooth  he  said: 
'The  heart  of  Hogni  by  the  side 

Of  timid  Hialli's  heart  has  rest; 
It  trembles  little  in  the  dish, 

If  trembled  less  while  in  his  breast. 
I'll  roast  and  eat  it — drink  its  blood 

To  give  my  heart  a  stouter  stroke, 
And  teach  my  hand  a  readier  skill 

To  wield  the  knife  or  club  of  oak. 
My  happiness  in  battle  lies. 

Red  slaughter  is  the  soldier's  part. 
Ah!  what  is  sweeter  than  the  blood 

Drunk  warm  from  out  a  foeman's  heart  ?' 
But  Christ  is  come.    Peace  and  good-will, 

These  are  the  new  world's  corner  stones. 
For  every  woe  a  glad,  new  joy 

And  healing  hands  for  broken  bones. 

(53) 


IN  PERIL'S  GRASP. 

Fie  on  the  man  who  can  .not  bear 

A  wrong  and  right  it  with  a  good! 
Shall  all  the  centuries  come  and  go 

And  lift  us  to  no  better  mood? 
Does  Odin  reign  that  any  now 

Should  batten  on  a  brother's  woe  ? 
Christ  finds  a  kinsman  hidden  there 

Beneath  the  jacket  of  a  foe. 
Come,  men,  be  men  and  right  your  wrongs 

As  men  with  men  should  right  them  now, 
With  Christ's  love  warm  within  your  hearts 

And  Christ's  truth  written  on  your  brow." 
Crede  Lyle  heard  all  her  sweet  voice  spoke; 

He  dropped  his  pistol  by  his  side. 
They  walked  on  quite  unconscious  still 

Amid  the  forests  sweeping  wide. 
What  Fairfax  said  in  his  response 

Was  what  a  man  of  honor  should. 
Crede  turned  upon  his  heel  and  went 

Straight  on  and  out  the  brooding  wood, 

(54) 


IN  PERIL'S  GRASP. 

"For  her  dear  sake  I  let  him  live, 

I  yet  shall  wing  him  on  the  way. 
He  knows  not  that  a  tiger  lies 

Close  by  to  spring  upon  its  prey." 
At  once  he  sped  him  to  the  home 

Of  Embry  Duncan  and  conferred 
Upon  the  time  of  rendez-vous — 

The  speeding  of  the  clarion  word 
That  was  to  gather  from  the  dells, 

The  crags  high  up  the  mountains'  side, 
The  swift  hands  that  could  wing  a  hawk 

Or  split  the  panther's  fluffy  hide. 
And  as  he  talked  with  Embry  there 

Luce  sat  a  spinning  in  the  room, 
Or  gathered  from  the  pretty  grass 

The  leaves,  new  fallen,  with  her  broom. 
She  listened  to  their  plans  and  felt 

Her  blood  creep  cold  in  every  vein. 
They  spoke  of  death.      Her  father's  name, 

Her  lover's  now  she  heard  again. 

(55) 


IN  PERIL:  s  GRASP. 

What,  if  her  father  fell  in  fight  ? 

What,  if  her  lover  died  too  soon  ? 
These  bitter  thoughts  ran  through  her  mind 

And  chilled  her  all  the  afternoon. 


(56) 


THE  GALA-NIGHT. 


'IS  presto  and  we  make  a 

change 
To  where  the  city's  surging 

tide 
Flows  streaming  through  its 

thoroughfares 
'Neath  lights  that  flare  and  flicker  wide. 
Here  stands  apart  sad  squalor  now— 

A  home  where  horror  loves  to  dwell, 
That  reeks  with  all  the  vices  and 
The  passions  of  an  earthly  hell. 
Now  yonder  is  a  pale,  sweet  child 

That  drinks  the  germs  of  death  that  lie 
Upon  the  stench  of  stagnant  pools 
That  turn  the  nose  and  fret  the  eye. 

(57) 


THE  GALA-NIGHT. 

Beyond,  the  car-bells  jingle  clear 

Upon  the  air.      Anon  the  gleam 
Of  rich  electric  arcs  that  pour 

Their  pretty  lights  in  constant  stream. 
The  bawd's  loud  laugh  re-echoes  now 

Her  victim's  bitter  charge  and  see 
The  erring  lad  now  staggers  by— 

A  dupe  to  wine's  sad  witchery. 
An  open  door;  the  blind  awry; 

A  wretch  within  with  lifted  cup; 
An  oath;  a  burly  form  that  sits 

Swift  from  its  seat  now  rises  up; 
A  dagger  gleams;  we  pass  along. 

Two  porters  bear  a  burden  here; 
A  beggar  lifts  her  hand  and  pleads 

With  quivering  voice  and  falling  tear; 
Three  wagons  go  in  hurried  rush; 

A  lad  belated  cries  the  news; 
A  shopman  takes  and  stores  away 

A  string  of  antiquated  shoes; 
(58) 


THE  GALA-NIGHT. 

Two  merchants  arm  in  arm  now  walk 

Upon  this  better  thoroughfare; 
A  maiden  and  a  youth  make  love 

Just  at  the  foot  of  this  broad  stair; 
A  couple — richly  clad  and  prim — 

Pass  on  to  see  the  famous  play; 
A  carriage  with  its  owner  comes — 

A"  pretty  chestnut  and  a  gray; 
A  loiterer  lingers  'long  the  street 

Pries  in  the  windows,  scans  them  lonpf; 

O  ' 

An  urchin,  ragged,  happy  faced, 

Breaks  into  snatches  of  sweet  song. 
The  noise  grows  less  and  less  and  now 

The  yards  lie  round  the  mansions,  and 
The  eye  beholds  a  sweeping  stretch 

Of  massive  structures  rising  grand. 
The  trees  in  leaf,  the  flowers  in  bloom, 

The  grasses  soft  and  rich  and  green, 
And  fountains  playing  pretty  streams 

At  intervals  now  set  between, 

(59) 


THE  GALA-NIGHT. 

Make  all  the  air  as  fresh  and  sweet 

As  grottoes  of  the  pretty  fay 
Who  revels  in  fair  Nature's  lap 

Upon  a  charming  summer  day. 
Here  rising  up  was  Cordele's  home— 

A  flood  of  light,  a  breathing  bower 
Of  wondrous  beauty,  wreathed  and  sweet 

With  bunting  and  with  blooming  flower. 
A  gala-night  she  makes  it  now, 

And  crowds  of  friends  are  streaming  in. 
Erelong  the  waiting  ear  is  glad, — 

The  baton  bids  the  ball  begin. 
The  pretty  dancers  come  and  go 

Like  fire-flies  on  the  meadow-land 
Or  swells  of  dashing  billows  that 

Roll  up  and  off  the  sea-swept  sand. 
The  gleam  of  gold,  the  brilliant  flash 

Of  diamond  and  encircling  pearl 
Adorn  alike  the  matron  and 

The  pretty  stripling  of  a  girl. 
(60) 


THE  GALA-NIGHT. 

The  silk  and  satin  gleam  and  mix 

With  tulle  and  brocade  and  fine  lace, 
Each  pretty  color  'ranged  to  make 

More  pretty  still  each  pretty  face. 
And  arms  and  necks  and  shoulders  rise 

In  rounded  plumpness  quite  as  fair 
As  snow-flakes  on  their  gentle  way 

Frpm  out  the  realms  of  upper  air. 
"O  Life!  O  Life!"  sighed  Cordele  as 

She  rested  now  within  the  arm 
Of  Jules,  whose  gaze  she  riveted 

As  with  a  subtle,  ceaseless  charm. 
He  never  saw  her  eye  so  blue, 

The  color  on  her  cheek  so  rare,, 
Such  pretty,  golden,  shimmering  light 

Enmeshed  within  her  glorious  hair; 
Nor  heard  her  laugh  as  waters  pour 

Such  rippling  music  on  his  ear; 
Nor  felt  her  pretty  little  foot 

Trip  'round  him  half  so  light  and  clear., 

(61) 


THE  GALA-NIGHT. 

The  modiste  and  the  maid  had  both 

Conspired  with  Nature  for  a  form. 
Would  sweep  his  very  breath  away 

And  take  his* whole  heart  as  by  storm. 
If  e'er  before  there  was  a  doubt 

Of  his  surrender  to  her  wiles, 
It  now  forever  dissipates 

Beneath  the  magic  of  her  smiles. 
And  she — ah!  she,  this  paragon, 

This  thing  of  beauty  made  to  please, 
Yon  looker-on  can  never  dream 

That  such  as  she  are  ill  at  ease; 
But  where  the  music's  pretty  call 

Floats  to  the  ear  and  all  things  seem 
As  happy  as  a  heart  can  be 

Are  troubles  we  may  never  dream. 
Cordele  has  had  her  stubborn  way, — 

The  dancers  come,  the  dancers  go; 
Their  nimble  feet  are  dancing  time 

Unto  her  everlasting  woe. 
(62) 


THE  GALA-NIGHT. 

The  heart-aches  and  the  pangs  that  be 

Amid  the  revels  of  the  dance, 
Thank  God!  are  hidden  from  the  view 

Of  all  save  His  all-seeing  glance. 
And  those  who  see  sweet  beauty's  spell 

And  gladden  at  its  witchery, 
May  never  know  the  things  that  are 

Or.  dream  the  things  that  are  to  be. 
God  rules  and  He  alone  should  know 

The  Future  and  the  Future's  will; 
For  He  alone  can  put  His  arms 

Around  us  and  can  save  us  still. 


(63) 


NOUS  VERRONS. 


A  NOTHER  day  was 
/         come  and  now 
Fairfax  prepared  to 

bid  adieu. 
His  horse  stood  at  the 

great  front  gate; 
He  lingered  as  most  lovers  do. 
Upon  the  heights  Lyle  ranged  his  troop 

And  from  an  out-post,  glass  in  hand, 
Bent  forward  scanning  with  his  eye 

The  reaches  of  out-lying  land — 
He  sees  the  horse,  the  rider  sees, 

And  turning  bids  his  comrades  know 
Their  prey  is  moving  o'er  the  plain 

Which  they  had  left  an  hour  ago. 
(65) 


NOUS  VERRONS. 

"No  fooling  when  the  moment  comes. 

Strike  death  to  him  and  that  right  sure. 
He'll  cross  my  path  and  thwart  my  plans 

With  his  dread  presence  never  more." 
Unconscious  of  the  lurking  fate 

His  hidden  foe  held  for  him  now, 
Fairfax  rode  o'er  the  rich,  brown  road 

That  clambered  to  the  hillock's  brow 
Then  darted  down  and  lay  between 

Great  stretches  of  sweet  clover-field, 
And  rose  again  where  waving  oats 

Unto  wide  sweeps  of  orchard  yield. 
The  blue-bird  caroled  on  the  limb; 

A  lazy  vulture  sailed  o'er  head; 
A  rabbit  stealing  from  the  field 

Now  up  the  roadway  startled  sped; 
A  cottage  home  soon  comes  in  view; 

A  bevy  of  gray  geese  now  hiss; 
A  barking  dog  jumps  at  the  fence, 

And  at  the  window  sits  a  miss; 

(66) 


NOUS  VERRONS. 

The  creek  beyond  runs  o'er  the  stones 

And  deepens  at  the  neighboring-  ford; 
Two  oxen  quench  their  raging  thirst, 

Worn  hot  beneath  the  heavy  load; 
The  driver  bows  and  keeps  his  eye 

Upon  the  stately  horseman's  form, 
Takes  off  his  hat  and  with  his  cloth 

Wipes  his  tanned  brow  now  reeking 

warm  ; 
The  sunlight  lay  on  grasses  sweet 

With  subtle  perfumes,  and  the  air 
Was  rich  with  exhalations  that 

Rose  up  to  greet  him  everywhere. 
His  mind  was  busy  with  the  calls 

Stern  Duty  placed  upon  his  brow; 
His  heart  for  peace  was  longing,  but 

His  country's  thoughts  were  other  now. 
Himself  he  needs  must  relegate 

Unto  the  rear,  and  bare  his  blade 


(67) 


NOUS  VERRONS. 

To  breast  the  issue  that  was  come 

And  he  himself  had  never  made. 
Still  on  he  rode  and  pistols  clicked 

Upon  the  height  impatient  still, 
And  daggers  gleamed  and  glowed  to  think 

They  soon  would  have  their  own  sweet 

will. 
Thus  down  the  road  of  life  we  move 

And  know  not  what  before  us  lies 
Until,  ere  we  have  dared  to  dream, 

We  face  some  sudden,  sad  surprise. 
For  us  whose  eye  is  on  the  height 

And  heart  is  with  the  rider  true, 
There  lurk  in  ambuscade  e'en  now 

Old  Death  and  all  his  mystic  crew. 
We  drink  the  floods  of  neighb'ring  air, 

And  catch  the  bird's  song  in  our  ear; 
We  spur  our  jade  and  whistle  .out 

And  ever  come  more  near  and  near; 


(68) 


NOUS  VERRONS. 

We  laugh,  as  laugh  we  should,  and  feel 

As  one  who  owns  an  endless  day; 
We  take  our  golden  hours  and  spill 

Their  glad  sweet  wealth  along  the  way. 
The  monster  lurks  and  whets  his  blade 

And  licks  his  tongue  in  horrid  glee. 
Ah!  well,  if  serious  thought  were  mixed 

With  all  our  merry  minstrelsy. 
For  lo!  where  turns  the  roadway  here 

A  hand  lies  on  the  bridle  now, 
And  Fairfax — stop,  stay,  is  it  Death 

That  mantles  o'er  his  noble  brow? 
Was  that  a  flight  of  whistling  balls? 

Is  that  the  gleam  of  daggers  high? 
A  struggle  as  of  one  \vho  knows: 

"I  win,  I  live;  I  lose,  I  die?" 
No.      Gentle  Lucy  lifts  her  eyes 

And  pleads  the  stranger  keep  the  right, 
The  foot-path  that  will  bring  him  safe 

Around  the  dizzy,  beetling  height. 
(69) 


NOUS  VERRONS. 

"Good  friend,  my  father  is  up  there 

And  Mr.  Lyle  and  he  I  love. 
They  wait  to  slay  you,  so  they  say, 

Wait  up  the  road  there,  just  above. 
And  oh!  who  knows  but  when  they  all, 

The  many  others,  leap  and  strike, 
My  father's  or  my  lover's  form 

May  lie  upon  the  rocky  pike  ? 
In  here  and  quickly  'round  them  ride, 

For  my  sake,  please,  sir,  wont  you  now? 
That's  right.      God  bless  you.      You  are 
kind; 

Some  day  I'll  pay  you,  friend,  some 

how. " 
Fairfax  had  read  within  her  face 

The  truth,  as  in  the  light  of  day, 
"Guerillas  whom  her  childish  fear 

Has  robbed,"  he  thought,   "now  of  their 
prey." 


(70) 


NOUS  VERRONS. 

And  in  he  rode  as  one  who  knows 

The  bravest  are  least  quick  to  dare, 
Unless  stern  Duty,  glory -crowned, 

Stands  pointing  while  she  whispers 

"  There" 
And  Luce  dashed  from  the  roadway  down 

And  quick  stole  still  through  bending 

trees, 
And  coming  to  her  little  room, 

Fell  there  upon  her  maiden  knees, 
And  prayed  her  God  to  save  that  one 

Whose  heart  was  plighted  to  her  own, 
And  bring  him  back  to  dwell  with  her, 

And  be  for  her  and  her  alone. 
Oh!  tender,  pretty  maiden  thoughts! 

Oh!  first  love,  how  the  after  years 
Will  mock  you  with  their  hollow  laugh; 

In  secret  bless  you  'mid  their  tears; 
Stretch  out  their  arms  and  cry  in  pain. 

"Oh!  for  the  blessed  days  I  knew, 

(71) 


NOUS  VERRONS. 


Oh!  for  the  sun-light  that  then  clad 
The  whole  world  in  its  golden  hue. 


IN  HIS  VINEYARD. 


"GLEN  MARY." 


Her  blessinofs  to  unnumbered 


&• 
poor, 

Or  scaled  the  rugged  heights 

and  stood 
A  welcome  guest  before  the  door. 
The  landscape  laughing  in  its  glee, 

The  song  of  bird  on  soaring  wing, 
The  leaflets  on  the  bending  tree, 

The  waters  gurgling  from  the  spring, 
The  varied  hues  of  morn  and  eve, 

That  clothed  the  east  or  western  sky, 
(73) 


IN  HIS  VINEYARD. 

The  rainbow  resting  on  the  peaks, 

The  sunlit  shower  passing  by, 
The  grasses  ranging  o'er  the  fields 

And  vieing  with  the  oats  and  wheat, 
The  hedge-rows  hugging  close  the  road, 

The  sylvan  wild-flowers  at  her  feet, 
The  loving  faith  her  young  deer  showed 

When  in  her  lap  its  soft  head  lay;— 
All  these  were  chapters  in  a  book 

That  made  her  better  every  day. 
Through  Nature  up  to  Nature's  God 

Her  soul  now  leaped  with  subtle  song; 
The  Hand  that  made  us  is  all  right, 

It's  we,  good  friends,  who  are  all  wrong. 
And  from  the  cross  the  message  comes: 

"I  am  the  way,  I  am  the  light: 
Peace  and  good-will  upon  the  earth, 

And  day  will  dawn  upon  the  night, 
And  woe  that  lurks  from  sun  to  sun 

And  nestles  in  the  human  breast, 

(74) 


IN  HIS  VINEYARD. 

Will  yield  to  peace — sweet  peace  that  gives 

To  His  beloved  endless  rest. 
Not  as  the  world  knows  is  that  peace 

That  broods  in  gentle  calm  above 
The  heart  that  God  has  touched  and  filled 

With  his  serener,  better  love. 
No  gnawing  tooth  of  bitter  greed, 

No  memory  of  a  plotted  wrong, 
Cuts  endless  in  its  inner  core 

Or  stills  the  voice  of  happy  song; 
But,  if  the  world's  low  treasures  fly, 

The  days  serenely  move  them  still, 
For  all  things  work  for  good  to  those 

Who  know  and  do  God's  loving  will, 
And  seek  to  scatter  little  bits 

Of  secret  goodness  'long  their  way 
And  lead  the  waning  night  of  Greed 

Into  Love's  broader,  sweeter  day. 
For  newer,  fuller  light  upon 

The  problems  of  our  daily  need, 

(75) 


IN  HIS  VINEYARD. 

This  is  the  statesman's  higher  work, 

This  is  the  churchman's  better  creed. 
Xot  gleaming  treasures  garnered  up 

By  wrecking  of  a  human  soul 
Is  wealth,  but  wealth  is  making  good 

And  glad  the  circle  you  control. 
The  rock  that  lies  to  splinter  wide 

Your  neighbor's  child's  fair  tiny  ship, 
With  higher  strength  remove  and  give 

The  little  tar  a  safer  trip; 
And,  when  the  tropic  seas  are  his, 

Let  him  in  fair  return  make  sure 
He  lade  his  ship  in  part  for  you, 

And  bless  you  with  his  precious  store. 
Thus  age  for  youth  makes  life  more  sweet, 

And  youth  holds  up  the  aged  hand, 
And  each  shall  turn  his  happy  feet 

Unto  the  sweeter,  better  land." 
So  Jean  now  thought  and  every  where 

Her  smiling  face  and  gentle  love 
(76) 


IN  HIS  VINEYARD. 

And  tender  hand  and  timely  gift 

Her  needing  fellows  bent  above. 
She  gave  to  one  a  kindly  word, 

Another  labor  for  the  day, 
Another  meat,  and  then  she'd  bend 

Here  with  another — bend  and  pray. 
A  pretty  book  the  young  child  got; 

A  new  frock  for  the  growing  maid; 
A  weary  mother  had  a  "help;" 

The  farm-hand's  doctor's  bill  was  paid. 
But  ever  yonder  was  a  thought 

With  one  on  the  embattled  plain. 
She  prayed  her  God  that  He  might  send 

Peace  to  her  countrymen  again. 


(77) 


TO  EACH  HIS  WAY. 


OEYOND  the  mountains  far 

away 
The  captains  of  unnumbered 

hosts 
Were  busy  at  their  routine 

work; 
The  soldiers — each — were  at 

their  posts. 
In  every  heart  there  lay  the  thought 

For  country  it  is  sweet  to  die,— 
This  cheered  the  lonely  sentry's  step 
And  brightened  every  leader's  eye. 
One  heart  was  touched  with  purpose  grand ;: 
One  mind  was  bent  to  weave  a  plan 

(79) 


TO  EACH  HIS  WAY. 

Would  win  the  day  and  gain  them  peace, 

Nor  cost  them  yet  another  man. 
That  soul  was  Fairfax  and  he  knew 

Each  by-path  of  the  country  'round. 
He  ran  his  thoughts  in  circuit  out 

And  chose  for  him  his  battle-ground. 
Slow  days  moved  on  by  slower  nights; 

His  foemen  grew  impatient  now. 
They  fancied  cowards  in  their  front, 

And  offered  to  the  gods  a  vow 
To  lash  them  with  the  willow's  twigs 

And  pull  their  noses  in  their  face, 
Since  they  had  dipped  their  manhood  in 

The  cess-pools  of  a  black  disgrace; 
But  Fairfax  let  them  fret  and  fume, 

With  brow  serene  and  heart  that  knew 
The  Future  yet  would  parcel  out 

The  blatant  soldier  from  the  true. 
The  night  came  down  the  mountain  heights 

And  rested  on  the  restless  foe, 

(80) 


TO  EACH  HIS  WAY. 

Whose  careless  eye  had  ceased  to  guard 

As  once  it  guarded  long  ago. 
When  morning  dawns,  a  flag  slow  moves 

Along  the  vale;  the  couriers  stay 
Just  where  the  lazy  general  still 

Now  wrapped  in  slumber  snugly  lay; 
"Your  further  fight  is  useless  now," 

Thus  spoke  the  spokesman  in  his  ear, 
"Your  past  is  glorious,  but  your  doom 

Is  sealed.      I  beg  you  listen,  sir." 
He  showed  him  then  the  workings  of 

The  master-mind  that  planned  the  whole, 
And  further  that  the  power  once  his 

Had  now  passed  on  from  his  control. 
To  lengthen  now  the  fight  was  just 

A  waste  of  human  lives,  and  so 
JT  were  best  to  yield  his  sword  and  own 

The  war  was  done,  and  turn  and  fro 

o 

Once  more  to  happy  homes  where  wives 

And  children  with  their  loving  arms 
(81) 


TO  EACH  HIS  WAY. 

Would  welcome  now  their  safe  return 

From  cruel  war  and  war's  alarms. 
So  ran  the  compact  and,  forsooth, 

The  gladdened  victors  tried  to  see 
How  they  could  heal  the  wounded  pride 

Wrought  by  their  royal  victory. 
The  vanquished  smiled  and  proffered  hands, 

All  save  one  sullen  chieftain  who 
With  his  sworn  comrades  picked  his  chance 

And  from  the  mingling  hosts  withdrew. 
As  some  fierce  bird  of  prey  which  slips 

The  snare  that  held  a  moment  fast, 
From  crag  to  crag  his  flight  he  takes 

As  crag  with  crag  is  swiftly  passed, 
And  yonder  where  his  aerie  is 

He  rests  a  moment  from  his  flight, 
Then  swoops  to  fright  the  heart  of  day 

And  batten  on  his  spoil  at  night; 
So  Lyle  now  climbed  the  slumb'rous  heights 

And  sought  secure  a  hiding  place, 
(82) 


TO  EACH  HIS  WAY. 


Still  vowing  vengeance  in  his  heart 
And  wearing  battle  in  his  face. 


(83) 


SIMPLICITY. 


f\  SOFT  wind  played  adown  the  vale 
/  And  toyed  with  the  clover  bloom, 
Peered  in  amid  the  tangled  grass, 

And  whispered  o'er  the  tawny  broom, 
Caught  in  its  arms  the  humming  bee, 

And  put  to  flight  the  butterfly, 
And  kissed  the  tulip's  pretty  lips 

And  jonquils  as  it  passed  them  by. 
It  wreathed  its  young  hands  in  the  scent 

Of  honeysuckles  hanging  near, 

(85) 


SIMPLICITY. 

And  touched  the  touch-me-not  and  said: 

"Now,  jump,  you  pretty  little  dear." 
It  clambered  up  the  hugh  grape-vine, 

And  shook  the  big  leaves  in  great  glee, 
And  whispered  to  a  lady-bug, 

"Are  you  here?    I  have  got  you.     See." 
Then  glanced  below  and  caught  a  sight 

Of  Luce  close  by  the  cottage  now, 
And  jumped  and  put  a  pretty  kiss 

Right  on  her  pretty  little  brow. 
Then  oped  its  eyes.     Lo  and  behold! 

Luce  stroked  her  kitten  on  her  knee, 
And  this  was  what  the  breeze  then  heard 

And  wondered  what  it  all  could  be. 


(86) 


SIMPLICITY. 


"If  you  loved  a  little  Kitzie 

And  he  was  afar  away, 
Would  you  be  so  happy,  Kitzie, 
Happy  as  you  are  to-day  ? 
Kitzie-cat, 
Tell  me  that. 

If  you  loved  a  little  Kitzie, 

And  a  cruel  huntsman  came 
With  his  gun  to  shoot  him,  Kitzie, 
Would  you  love  him  just  the  same? 
Kitzie-cat, 
Tell  me  that. 

If  you  loved  a  little  Kitzie, 

Would  you  weep  and  wish  him  here, 
Would  you  write  a  letter,  Kitzie, 

Would  you  call  him  home,  my  dear? 
Kitzie-cat, 
Tell  me  that." 


(87) 


SIMPLICITY. 

Then  a  tear  broke  from  her  eye-lid 

And  ran  coursing  down  her  cheek, 
And  her  little  lips  now  quivered 

And  they  could  no  longer  speak. 
Then  the  thoughtless  little  breeze 

That  had  laughed  through  all  the  day, 
Bent  and  with  a  tender  prayer 

Kissed  the  little  tear  away- 
Put  its  arms  about  her  form,— 

Laid  her  on  its  smitten  breast, 
Lulled  her  wearied  little  heart 

With  its  sweetness  into  rest, 
Slowly  stirred  her  from  her  thoughts, 

Taught  her  labor  gives  relief 
When  the  pent  and  weary  heart 

Bends  beneath  its  heavy  grief. 
And  she  rose  and  went  her  way 

Where  the  field-road  ran  along; 
As  she  passed  the  apple-tree 

Hummed  herself  a  little  song: 

(88) 


SIMPLICITY. 

"Love  and  trust 

And  God  will  bless  you. 
Wait,  my  heart.     It's  bound  to  be, 
God  is  good 

And  wont  distress  you, 
If  you'll  wait,  my  heart,  and  see; 
If  you'll  wait,  my  heart,  and  see. 

Once  my  little  Kitzie  lingered 

And  I  thought  "T  will  surely  die/ 

And  I  prayed  my  God  to  save  her 
And  he  saved  her  by  and  by. 

Love  and  trust 

And  God  will  bless  you. 
Wait,  my  heart.     It's  bound  to  be. 
God  is  good 

And  wont  distress  you, 
If  you'll  wait,  my  heart,  and  see; 
If  you'll  wait,  my  heart,  and  see." 


(89) 


SOLDIER,   ON! 


7"HE  fame  of  Fairfax  filled  the  land. 
He  stole  him  for  a  moment's  rest 
To  fair  "Glen  Mary,"  where  he  owned 
The  sweet  surroundings  suited  best. 
When  woes  have  gathered  thick  and  fast 

And  dark  skies  bend  our  path  above, 
(91) 


SOLDIER,   ON! 

What  place  so  sweet?    What  heart  so  true, 

As  is  the  home,  the  heart  we  love? 
When  Victory  wreaths  with  bays  our  brows 
And  Fame  bedecks  our  path  with  flowers, 
Our  first  thought  is  the  home  and  heart — 

The  home  and  heart  we  know  is  ours. 
And  thither  with  a  loving  tryst 

We  make  our  way  unto  our  own 
Far  from  the  thoughtless  crowd,  whose 

shout 

Attends  the  victor's  path  alone, 
As  ready  as  the  surly  hound 
To  fall  upon  a  fallen  prey 
That  its  long  tongue  with  bitter  gibes 

Has  tried  to  fell  the  live-long  day. 
One  thought  now  pursed  his  master  brow — 

The  serried  band  upon  the  height, 
Yet  bent  to  break  his  country's  laws 
And  eager  for  the  bloody  fight. 


(92) 


SOLDIER,   ON! 

He  sought  to  know  the  chieftain's  heart 

And  learn  the  motive  of  his  hate, 
And  bring  him  to  his  country's  fold 

Repentant,  if  repentant  late. 
Jean  fathomed  all  for  him  and  told 

The  story  of  Crede  Lyle's  sad  life, 
Just  as  she  heard  it  told  by  one 

Who  was  an  arch  insurgent's  wife. 
Fairfax  passed  from  his  day's  repose 

And  took  the  reins  in  hand  again, 
With  firm  resolve  to  meet  his  foe 

And  close  at  once  his  last  campaign. 
Around  him  lay  the  camp  fires  now 

On  hill  and  dale,  a  pretty  sight, 
And  in  his  tent  he  sat  with  brow 

O'er  shadowed  by  the  coming  night. 
To  win  and  wound  not  was  the  thought 

That  to  his  heart  was  still  most  dear, 
When  through  the  gloaming  stole  a  song 

And  fell  upon  his  listening  ear. 

(93) 


SOLDIER,   ON! 


,   (Dn  I 

Darkness  comes  without  our  wishing. 

We  must  bear  as  best  we  may, 
Knowing  that  its  stars  will  light  us 

To  a  brighter,  better  day. 

Cheer  thy  heart  and  bid  it  "Courage!'' 
Through  the  gloaming  to  the  dawn. 

Holy  angels  bend  and  beckon, 

While  they  whisper,  "Soldier,  On!'r 

Hero  of  our  daily  being, 

Bearing  wounds  for  Honor's  sake, 
Let  thy  heart  be  glad  within  thee, 

Soon  the  roseate  dawn  will  break ; — 

Soon  the  songs  of  birds  will  echo 

In  the  valleys  far  and  near, 
And  the  world  all  robed  in  splendor 

Out  of  darkness  will  appear. 

He  who  bears  the  lonely  watchings 
Of  the  night  of  gloom  alone, 

Is  the  first  who  sees  the  day-king 
Seated  on  his  golden  throne. 

(94) 


SOLDIER,   ON! 

Cheer  thy  heart  and  bid  it,  "Courage!  " 
Through  the  gloaming  to  the  dawn. 

Holy  angels  bend  and  beckon, 

While  they  whisper,  "Soldier,  On!" 


(95) 


CORDELE. 


EX  TENEBRIS  IN  LUC  EM. 


'HE  busy  wheels  of  Traffic 

roar 
And  clatter  on  the  list'ning 

ear; 
The  columns  of  black  smoke  ascend 

Yet  up  and  up  and  disappear. 
The  teeming  crowds  are  jogging,  each 

In  wild  pursuit  of  hoarded  pelf; 
And  all  seem  bent  alone  upon 

"The  bread  and  cheese  upon  the  shelf." 
One  lifts  his  mansion  costly  grand 
With  millions  in  his  coffers  by, 

(97) 


CORDELE. 

Yet  rushes  as  impelled  by  fate 

To  make  yet  more  before  he  die; 
Another  sees  and  knows  the  thirst 

For  wealth  can  never  get  its  fill, 
But  follows  swift  upon  its  track 

And  swifter  and  yet  swifter  still. 
As  in  some  whirlpool  swimmers  strive 

To  stem  the  billows  and  to  rise 
Each  o'er  his  fellow  to  a  height 

Will  face  the  frontlet  of  the  skies, 
And  fear  to  leave  the  stroke  unmade 

Lest  haply  they  may  sink  to  doom 
And  flounder  as  a  soggy  log 

Ignobly  to  a  watery  tomb; 
So  here  within  this  bustling  mart, 

Each  on  this  thronged  and  narrow  street 
Now  toils,  yet  finds  no  stay  nor  rest, 

No  place  for  tired  brain  and  feet. 
Each  day  he  speeds  as  though  the  life 

Of  millions  hung  upon  his  speed; 
(98) 


CORDELE. 

He  gets  and  gets  and  gets  and  gets 

And  finds  he  is  still  more  in  need. 
When  night  comes  on  and  morning  stars 

Rise  sweet  within  the  eastern  skies, 
He  goes  to  bed  but  downy  sleep 

Is  still  a  stranger  to  his  eyes. 
In  visions  of  his  fevered  thought 

The  game  runs  on,    "I  win,  I  lose/" 
He  is  the  victim  of  the  fate 

The  thoughtless  thousands  rashly 

choose; 
For  in  his  house  this  day  and  hour 

The  child  whose  all,  his  all's  to  be, 
Sobs  with  a  heart  that  moans  to  know 

Wealth  is  not  loving  sympathy. 
For  through  the  past  years  sown  full 
thick 

Are  hours  she  needed  his  heart's  beat 
To  soothe  and  soften  and  his  hand 

To  lead  her  wicked  little  feet. 

(99) 


CORDELE. 

If  haply  wilful  she  essayed 

His  will  to  thwart,  he  shook  his  fist 
And  swore  an  oath.  She  passed  from 
sight 

And  went  where  her  rash  heart  miofht 

O 

list, 
And  did  whate'er  her  angered  pride 

And  spiteful  turn  might  deem  her  will. 
Her  busy  father  thought  to  soothe, 

If  he  would  only  foot  each  bill. 
And  so  she  ran  the  round  of  all 

An  aimless  life  of  pleasure  hath, 
And  doubling  on  her  track  she  came 

All  weary  down  the  olden  path. 
And  sighed  for  rest  and  sighed  for  peace 

And  raised  to  God  her  feeble  prayer, 
That  some  orood  hand  would  lead  her 

O 

heart 

From  out  these  realms  of  dark 
despair — 

(100) 


CORDELE. 

These  shades  where  strove  in  useless  strife 

The  poverty-stricken  rich  who  need 
For  ill-fed  minds  and  hungry  souls 

The  hale  food  of  the  Christian  creed. 
She  fell  on  sleep  and  dreams  there  came 

Of  rescue  and  of  peace  at  last,— 
Of  tender  words  and  gentle  arms 

Around  her  shrinking  figure  cast. 
She  woke  to  find  her  throbbing  brow 

On  Jean's  good  heart.      She  raised  her 

eyes; 

"Where  did  you  come  from?    Surely, 
God 

In  love  has  sent  you  from  the  skies. 
Oh!  Jean,  this  wayward  world  does  wrong 

To  think  its  heart  can  e'er  find  rest 
Save  in  His  arms,  save  in  His  love, 

Save  on  His  sympathetic  breast. 
I've  run  the  round.     I  know  it  all. 

It's  hollow  mockery  they  call  fun. 

(101) 


CORDELE. 

There  is  no  joy  like  that  they  know 

Who  say,   'O  God,  thy  will  be  done. ' 
Good  friend,  I  love  to  hear  your  heart 

Sing  its  sweet  music  in  my  ear. 
Methinks  my  weary  soul  would  like 

To  breathe  its  worthless  self  out  here. 
You  know  'way  down  the  by-gone  days, 

I  half-way  dreamed  of  love  and  truth 
And  all  those  pretty  things  you've  known, 

And  decked  your  life  with  from  your 

youth. 
But  oh!  the  chilling  air  of  greed, 

Th'  insatiate  maelstrom,  more  and  more 
Swept  my  frail  bark  upon  the  seas 

Far  from  that  balmy  blessed  shore. 
And  I  have  lived — God  pity  me— 

God  pity  me  and  send  me  rest. 
Jean,  hold  me  closer,  wont  you,  dear? 

Still  closer  to  your  loving  breast. 


(102) 


CORDELE. 

Oh!  could  I  die  just  here  and  now, 

I  think  I  surely  would  be  blest. 
Jean,  hold  me  closer,  wont  you,  dear? 

Still  closer  to  your  loving  breast. 
Oh!    This  is  good.    The  storm-tossed  bird 

Is  once  again  within  its  nest. 
Jean,  hold  me  closer,  wont  you,  dear? 

Still  closer  to  your  loving  breast." 


(103) 


THE  COMBAT. 


HERE  beetling 
crags  on  crags 
arise, 

A  bitter  heart  now 
longs  for  fight. 
His  'leaguered  hosts  with  restless  step 

Speed  loit'ring  day,  curse  coming  night. 
With  heartless  taunt  they  cry  to  know 

Why  those  whose  bulwarks  rise  on  high 
Meet  not  on  mid-way  ground  and  fight 

Like  men  and  win  the  day  or  die. 
The  patient  Fairfax  heard  it  all 

And  ran  the  problem  through  his  mind, 


THE   COMBAT. 

"'This  is  a  private  grievance  and 

A  private  settlement  should  find. 
Why  need  the  hundreds  who  are  here 

Spill  their  life-blood — a  useless  fate? 
He  does  my  country  public  wrong, 

Because  he  bears  me  private  hate. 
I'll  meet  him  and  let  God  and  skill 

Decide  at  once  what  they  deem  best. " 
Then  peaceful  as  a  pretty  babe, 

The  guileless  chieftain  seeks  his  rest. 
When  morning  came,  a  flag  ascends 

The  topmost  peak — a  parley  pleads— 
Crede  Lyle  consents  on  testy  ground 

That  Fairfax  quickly  state  his  needs. 
Mid-way  the  hosts,  the  stainless  knight 

Asks  that  his  foe  give  reason  why 
As  man  with  man  they  can  not  bring 

Their  quarrel  to  an  end.      The  eye 
Of  Lyle  flashed  fire  and  his  teeth 

Shone  as  a  tiger's  keen  and  white. 

(106) 


THE   COMBAT. 

"'There  is  but  one  thing,  sir,  to  do — 

And  that  thing  is  to  draw  and  fight." 
"Agreed,"  said  Fairfax,    "if  you'll  make 

This  compact:  All  on  either  side 
Must  swear  they  will  abstain  from  fight 

And  by  the  issue  then  abide. 
And,  if  I  fall  or  if  I  win, 

One  thing  alone  of  yours  and  you: 
To  yonder  flag  henceforth  and  now 

You  swear  forever  to  be  true." 
This  then  they  swore  and  heralds  made 

The  wide  announcement  to  the  ranks. 
On  either  side  the  cheers  went  up 

Like  waters  roaring  over  banks. 
The  seconds  then  prepared  the  swords 

And  tested  them  of  steel  approved. 
Then  to  and  fro  like  ushers  now 

Upon  a  gala-day  they  moved. 

I 

Had  then  a  traveller  happened  by 

And  seen  affairs  just  as  they  stood — 
(107) 


THE   COMBAT. 

He'd  thought  two  friendly  parties  here, 

On  hunt  intent,  met  in  the  wood, 
Nor  known  that  sword  with  sword  would 

.     cross, 

And  on  it  all  depend  the  woe 
Or  weal  of  those  who'd  met  in  fight 

One  for  his  land,  one  'gainst  his  foe. 
But  so  it  was;  Fairfax's  heart 

Was  lifted  to  his  God  in  prayer 
For  all  the  hosts  that  circled  round 

And  all  their  loved  ones  every  where; 
Nor  did  he  fail  to  ask  that  He 

Would  shield  his  Jean  from  every  harm, 
And,  knowing  then  his  Duty  called, 

He  found  him  with  a  steady  arm. 
For  prayer  puts  courage  in  the  heart 

And  steadies  every  patriot's  hand 

To  strike  for  home  and  all  that's  dear — 

• 
The  God  we  love  and  native  land. 


(108) 


THE   COMBAT. 

Then  quiet  as  a  friend  would  go 

To  meet  a  friend,  peace  on  his  face, 
He  moves  to  meet  the  Lyle  half-way 

And  shake  his  hand  with  knightly  grace. 
Swords  then  were  crossed.    The  given 
word 

Was  scarcely  from  the  giver's  lips, 
Lyle-  lunges  with  an  angry  stroke — 

Is  parried — tries  again  and  slips— 
His  foeman  kindly  stops  and  waits; 

Recovered  now  he  comes  again; 
Swords  flash;  he  strikes  an  under-stroke, 

But  strikes  his  under-stroke  in  vain. 
The  skilled  eye  of  the  Fairfax  then 

Perceived  the  demon  in  the  play, 
But  wished  his  foe  should  see  that  he 

Was  ready  for  him  any  way. 
As  storms  impetuous  break  and  roar 

Upon  some  rugged,  rock-ribbed  hill 


(109) 


THE   COMBAT. 

And  fret  and  fume,  because,  forsooth, 

They  can  not  have  their  testy  will; 
So  Lyle  now  rushed  and  angry  swore 

As  stroke  met  with  a  fellow  stroke, 
And  circling  thousands  into  cheers— 

As  warring  clouds  peal — sudden  broke. 
As  those  spent  storms  fall  into  calm 

And  settle  to  their  deep  repose, 
So  Lyle  now  sinks  him  to  the  ground 

Beneath  the  bravest  of  brave  foes. 
And  mountains  unto  mountains  speak 

As  Fairfax'  foot  rests  on  his  breast. 
When  sudden  calm  broods  over  all, 

His  fallen  foe  he  thus  addressed: 
"Your  life  is  mine.    I  grant  it  now 

On  one  condition.    That  shall  be: 
Friendship  forever  shall  abide 

Between  my  fallen  foe  and  me. " 
Lyle  looked  and  saw  upon  his  face 

A  glory  from  the  better  land. 

(no) 


THE   COMBAT. 


"I'm  yours  henceforth,"  he  said.     "I  pledge 
The  fealty  of  myself  and  band." 


(in) 


THE  CHRISTMAS  FETE. 


'HE  Christmas  comes  to 

glad  the  vale, 
New  wakened  from  the 

sleep  of  years, 
And  pouring  forth  its  latent 

wealth 

For  him  whom  every  heart  reveres. 
That  mind  that  held  the  reins  of  war 

And  kept  the  demon  in  its  clasp, 
Still  reaching  forth  with  newer  stroke 
And  wider  sweeps  of  mental  grasp, 
Had  bid  the  mountains  bring  their  store 

And  render  homage  unto  men, 
("3) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

And  spread  their  laps  to  house  and  hold 

The  teeming  hundreds  from  the  glen. 
New  conquests  followed  swift  his  feet; 

With  steam  he  stormed  the  very  height, 
And  far  and  wide  the  landscape  laughed 

Beneath  his  eye's  benignant  light. 
On  tree  and  bush,  and  grass  and  rock, 

Close  hugging  now  the  prattling  creek; 
On  hill  and  dale  and  upland  slope 

And  boulder,  crag  and  mountain  peak, 
The  snow  lies  spread  all  soft  and  white 

A  virgin  garb  for  that  sweet  day 
When  all  the  world  with  tender  love 

Should  meet  and  lift  their  hearts  and 

pray. 
The  busy  song  of  anvil  now 

Is  hushed;  the  panting  forge  is  still; 
The  ore-banks  lie  in  peace;  the  beasts 

Range  'round  the  haystacks  on  the  hill. 


("4) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

The  happy  children  run  and  laugh 

And  stir  the  old  folks  with  their  gleer 
Content  to  have  the  things  that  are 

And  leave  the  morrow  those  to  be. 
The  dusk  comes  o'er  the  distant  heights 

And  spreads  its  wings  across  the  sky. 
The  great  electric  arc-lights  gleam 

To  guide  the  foot  and  glad  the  eye. 
The  bell  tolls  from  the  steeple's  throat 

A  chime  that  sweetens  all  the  air 
And  bids  the  thousands  meet  and  greet 

The  Christmas  fete  with  praise  and 

prayer. 
As  vast  white  tents  for  armies  spread, 

All  snow-decked  now  the  buildings 

rise, 
That  are  to  house  and  warm  the  crowds 

That  throng  beneath  the  wintry  skies. 
As  mountain  rills  from  pretty  glens 

Stream  down  and  gather  into  one— 
("5) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

Which  grows  in  width  and  depth  and 
strength 

As  on  it  goes  to  meet  the  sun; 
So  from  the  bright,  sweet  homes  that  lie, 

A  fringe  of  glory  round  the  hills, 
The  multitude  now  gathers  swift — 

Each  by  the  route  his  good  heart  wills. 
The  grand  notes  of  the  organ  float 

Amid  the  reaches  of  the  hall, 
And  touch  with  rich  devotion  now 

The  tender  hearts  of  one  and  all. 
The  pastors  who  had  led  their  flocks 

Through  seasons  as  they  came  and 

went, 

Now  stand  in  prayer  while  heads  and 
hearts 

In  reverent  love  are  near  them  bent. 
The  lifted  voice  is  full  of  thanks 

For  blessings  through  the  past  year 
sown, 

(116) 


THE    CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

And  eager  pleadings  that  the  world 

May  soon  its  sovereign  Master  own, 
And  rich  good  will  and  loving  deed 

Adorn  each  heart  and  grace  each  hand 
And  crown  with  peace  and  brotherhood 

The  humblest  home  in  every  land. 
This  over,  lights  flash  on  the  trees 

That  rise  to  meet  the  children's  eyes, 
And  'mid  their  green  leaves  weave  the 
shades 

Of  all  the  rainbow's  pretty  dyes. 
Gift  on  rich  gift  hangs  tempting  there, 

And  little  hearts  are  beating  fast 
With  dreams  that  are  too  beautiful, 

Too  golden-brigJit  and  sweet  to  last. 
And  here  and  there  the  couples  walk 

With  arm  in  arm — a  happy  throng  \ 
While  oboe  and  xylophone 

And  sweet-voiced  violins  vie  with 
song. 

("7) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

And  here  there  moves  a  stately  form 

And  with  him  one  of  matchless  grace, 
Whose  bowing  heads  acknowledge  friends 

By  scores  around  with  smiling  face. 
And,  as  they  pass,  each  reverent  heart 

Says  to  itself  a  little  prayer, 
That  God  may  bless  with  health  and  joy 

'  'Glen  Mary's"  lord  and  mistress  there. 
For  Fairfax  with  his  charming  Jean 

Still  loved  and  kept  their  trysting  place 
And  with  their  hands  and  bounty  wreathed 

It  daily  with  a  newer  grace, 
Till  far  and  wide  its  good  fame  went 

As  stayer  of  the  needy  hand— 
A  royal  blessing  and  a  crown 

Of  endless  glory  to  the  land. 
They  mingle  with  the  crowding  hosts 

And  for  the  nonce  are  lost  to  sight; 
The  surging  streams  come  passing  by 

And  parting  go  to  left  and  right. 
(118) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

Now  see  a  man  of  stalwart  mold — 

A  giant  oak  from  forests  wide — 
And  with  him  now  a  petite  form— 

A  fairy  tripping  by  his  side. 
Crede  Lyle  looks  down  in  eyes  all  blue 

As  waters  under  laughing  skies, 
And  Cordele  owns  her  heart  at  rest 

As  arm  on  arm  now  gently  lies. 
Two  strange  lives  welded  into  one, 

By  God's  grace  sweetened  and  made 

true 
To  all  that's  good.    The  better  now 

For  what  the  Past  has  brought  them 

through — 
A  sturdy  tree  now  settled  square 

And  ready  for  a  noble  growth — 
A  pretty  vine  once  storm-tossed,  now 

In  leaf  and  fruitage  putting  forth. 
A  sweet  laugh  as  a  child  were  here 

And  glad  to  see  some  .pretty  toy, 
("9) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

Presents  us  with  our  cottage  maid — 

"Luce"  and  her  noble  soldier  boy. 
They  walk  and  talk  and  halt  to  speak 

With  some  good  friend  who's  passing  by, 
And  tell  of  how  their  little  home 

Rounds  up  and  out  beneath  the  sky. 
And  then  she  sees  a  little  babe 

And  runs  to  kiss  it.     "Oh!  how  sweet, 
Just  see  its  chubby  hands,  its  eyes, 

And  oh!  these  precious  little  feet." 
The  crowds  press  in,  we  lose  from  sight 

Our  little  Lucy  and  we  hear 
The  song  of  children  as  they  march — 

A  merry  phalanx  singing  clear. 
The  hour  is  on  for  festal  glee — 

And  line  on  line  in  circles  whirls,— 
Each  father  hails  his  handsome  boy, 

Each  mother  eyes  her  pretty  girls. 
The  red  and  blue  and  white  and  green 

And  orange  and  the  lilac  glow; 

(120) 


THE    CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

The  pink  and  black  and  ecru  come, 

The  gray  and  mauve  and  scarlet  go. 
The  streaming  ribbons  dance  and  play 

Like  leaves  before  a  whirling  blast, 
And  eyes  flash  back  in  winsome  way 

The  pretty  glances  at  them  cast. 
The  music  fills  and  thrills  the  whole, 

And  'mid  its  lower  keys  are  heard 
The  bits  of  laughter  break  and  stir, 

Like  notes  of  some  sweet  wild-wood 

bird. 
The  old  folks  in  the  neighb'ring  booths 

Look  out  upon  the  changing  scene, 
And  Reminiscence  wakes  anew 

The  happy  days  that  once  have  been. 
Meanwhile  their  appetites  grow  keen 

At  savor  of  the  unctious  meal, 
Whose  presence,  reeking-sweet  and 
glad, 

The  lifted  curtains  now  reveal. 

(121) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

The  pig,  well-roasted,  sleek  and  fat, 

With  apple  in  his  jolly  jaws, 
And  parsley  spread — a  profuse  garb — 

About  him,  like  a  magnet,  draws. 
Scarce  less  a  monarch  of  the  hour 

Yon  glorious  gobbler  rears  his  breast, 
And  to  the  hungry,  waiting  soul 

Forebodes  a  longing  soon  at  rest. 
The  smaller  game  — 't  were  useless  now 

To  mention — chickens,  ducks  and  geese, 
Deer,  rabbits,  quail,  some  pheasants,  here 

Opossums  lolling  in  their  grease. 
The  oyster  from  his  native  bed 

Disturbed,  a  traveller  in  these  parts, 
Has  come  to  lend  variety 

And  gladden  many  happy  hearts. 
The  dishes  of  an  endless  make 

Here  steam  with  fruit  of  every  kind 
And  all  the  garden  and  the  field 

Supply  to  give  us  peace  of  mind, 

(122) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

And  loaves  all  fleecy  and  as  sweet 

As  ever  tempted  human  thought 
Are  ranged  at  intervals,  into 

The  rarest  shapes  and  sizes  wrought. 
All  things  that  go  to  make  hearts  glad 

And  still  the  craving'appetite 
Were  gathered  on  the  groaning  boards 

To  crown  this  glorious  Christmas  night. 
The  wine-cup  and  the  whisky-glass — 

Fell  wreckers  of  the  human  race — 
Found  here,  where  Christian  hearts  were 
met, 

There  was  for  them  no  fitting  place; 
But  men  had  manlier  ways  to  glad 

The  present  than  to  soak  their  brains 
With  fluids  that  have  swept  the  world 

As  great  tornadoes  sweep  the  plains. 
The  aged  now  first  lead  the  way, 

Their  gray  locks  crowning  honored 

brows, 

(123) 


THE    CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

And  reverent  bend  their  heads  and  say 

The  grace  a  good  heart  ever  vows. 
In  turn  each  joins  the  feasting  groups 

Assembled  at  the  tables  wide, 
And  Converse  lends  her  pretty  charm 

To  usher  out  the  Christmas  tide. 
Sweet  stories  of  the  olden  times 

Float  from  the  lips  of  other  days, 
And  woo  the  younger  folks  to  vie 

In  rich  regard  and  fitting  praise; 
Or  else  a  maiden's  coyness  here 

Has  tempted  some  o'er  ardent  swain, 
Secluded  and  alone,  to  press 

The  suit  he's  pressed  before  in  vain; 
Or  pretty  mother  strokes  the  hair 

From  off  her  dimpled  darling's  face, 
And  glories  in  its  laughing  eye, 

Its  bounding  health  and  winsome  grace. 
The  feast  now  done,  the  hour  is  come 

To  gather  'neath  the  Christmas  trees 
(124) 


THE    CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

And  portion  to  the  happy  throng 

The  gifts  as  Santa  Claus  decrees. 
The  young  hearts  glow  and  all  their  soul 

Expectant  sits  within  their  eyes, 
Awaiting  now  to  welcome  soon 

The  rich  gifts  with  glad,  little  cries. 
The  busy  ushers  come  and  go 

And  gladden  one  by  one  the  whole, 
Till  all  the  trees  have  rendered  up 

Their  fruit  to  ladder  and  to  pole. 
Then  sounds  the  proclamation  far 

For  peace  and  order  once  again. 
The  surging  crowds  obey  and  rest 

As  billows  calmed  upon  the  main. 
From  where  the  dais  sinks  from  sight 

Behind  th.e  curtains  in  the  rear, 
The  stately  form  and  loving  face 

Of  My  Lord  Fairfax  now  appear. 
He  waves  his  hand,  the  crowds,  now  still, 

All  bend  to  catch  his  every  word. 

(125) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

His  voice,  sweet  toned  and  clear  ran  out 

So  that  each  list'ning  burgher  heard: 
"Friends,"  so  he  speaks,   "within  your 
thought 

There  lies  the  memory  of  a  vow, 
That  once  you  made  on  upland  crag 

And  lowland  lea;  where  is  it  now? 
Here  by  my  side  your  leader  stands, 

A  brother  to  my  heart  and  soul 
And  partner  full;  o'er  you  he  wields 

With  me  an  even  half-control. 
Led  on  by  wooings  of  that  love 

That  streams  from  God  to  sweeten 

life 
And  still  all  cause  for  hate  and  gloom 

Or  further  internecine  strife, 
We  come  to-night  to  bless  ourselves 

In  blessing  you.    For  we  believe 
That  surplus  wealth  is  but  a  trust 

Bestowed  of  God  that  we  may  give 
(126) 


THE    CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

His  bounty  back  to  those  whose  sweat 

Has  won  it  from  the  grasp  of  earth, 
And  pass  to  God  with  hands  as  clean 

As  when  we  came  from  Him  at  birth. 
Who  lives  alone  for  hoarded  pelf 

Is  but  a  hunger-smitten  beast, 
Whose  gnawing  vitals  famish  'mid 

The  glowing  plenty  of  the  feast. 
He  misses  all  the  subtle,  sweet 

And  radiant  joy  of  those  who  live 
And  follow  Him  who  taught,    'It  is 

More  blest  to  give  than  to  receive.' 
So  all  these  acres  spreading  wide, 

These  mines  that  teem  with  hidden 

worth, 
These  forges  threat'ning  to  the  skies, 

These  buildings  hugging  close  the 

earth, 
Henceforth,  in  part  are  yours  as  ours; 

His  share  awaits  each  freeman  here; 
(127) 


THE   CHRISTMAS  FETE. 

For  him  who  saves,  henceforth,  my  friends, 

The  way  to  plenty  now  is  clear. 
Our  aim  is  for  our  mutual  good, 

Yourselves  and  us  alike  to  lift. 
(My  noble  wife  unites  her  voice) 

Receive,  my  friends,  your  Christmas 

gift." 
The  welkin  rang  and  glad  hearts  wept, 

The  preacher  rose  and  raised  the  song, 
"Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessino-s 

O 

flow," 

And  with  a  prayer  dismissed  the 
throng. 


(128) 


r/,s 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


FEB 1  6 1957 


Form  L9-100m-9.'52(A3105)444 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


15. 
1039     Fairfax, 

Al 


A    001  374  571    6 


PS 

1039 
AU3f 


